


The Best Gift Ever

by PaxterHobber



Series: My Master Gabriel [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Sex, Angst, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Caning, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Cock Warming, Collars, Come Eating, Corporal Punishment, Deepthroating, Gags, Hand Feeding, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Lingerie, M/M, Manhandling, Master/Slave, Nipple Clamps, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overstimulation, Paddling, Past Abuse, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sexual Slavery, Shibari, Slavery, Spanking, Spitroasting, Spreader Bars, Stockholm Syndrome, Threesome - M/M/M, Underwear Kink, Vibrators, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 39
Words: 110,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24899446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxterHobber/pseuds/PaxterHobber
Summary: Sold into slavery by his own father, Erik has known nothing but the daily struggle for survival in the harsh conditions of a sweatshop. When he is gifted to one  of the richest men in country, he struggles to navigate his new life as a pleasure slave.This fic is for Fran_fic as a thank you for being the best kind of enabler and for listening to my ramblings. She has been an endless source of inspiration and support for me and I would have never even attempted an original, if it weren’t for her. Also, if you like original slavery stories, which obviously you do otherwise what the hell are you doing here, definitely give herThe Red Braida read! It's so good!
Series: My Master Gabriel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027731
Comments: 702
Kudos: 922





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fran_fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fran_fic/gifts).



> This is basically a gratuitous excuse to write smut, don't expect too much plot:) Heed the tags, this is a slavery fic, so definitely non-con, but it's not overly dark. I will update as time allows and inspiration hits. Enjoy!:)

Gabriel stumbles out of the limo in front his home, taking a lungful of the fresh night air. The mansion in front of him is dark and quiet except for one window. Dennis is waiting up for him, then. Good, he thinks as he bangs the door and leans against the frame, swaying a little.

He doesn’t have to wait long for the door to open. Dennis steps back, bowing respectfully.

“Welcome home, Master,” he says, taking his tuxedo jacket from him. “How was the party?”

“Uh,” Gabriel grunts, kicking off his shoes. “As dull as expected.”

Every year, his PR team makes him throw a birthday party—a black tie event where everyone who means anything in this city comes rub elbows with him and suggest a business lunch. A greedy, power-hungry bunch, all of them. All they want is their picture in the newspaper standing next to him and the bragging rights that they got to attend the social event of the year.

“Everything alright?” he asks, when the Dennis continues to hover nearby, fidgeting with the tuxedo in his hands. Even as drunk as he is, Gabriel notices the older slave is weirdly nervous.

“There was a- um, delivery from Mr. Perez, Master.”

“Oh, was there?” Gabriel perks up. Mark and he go a long way back, they have been best friends basically since pre-school. Even though they haven’t seen each other in years, with Mark travelling around the world, clearly bent on spending all his parents’ inheritance before turning forty, while Gabriel decided to stay and focus on building up his company, he still misses him dearly.

“He sent you a gift, Master,” Dennis says, his eyes flicking nervously inside the house. “There was a note—” he hands him a piece of paper and Gabriel takes it impatiently. He has to blink and focus to get the letters to stand still. Fuck, he’s drunker than he thought.

_Happy birthday, you old bastard! I’m sending you a little taste of the riches of the North. Take care of him!_

_Love you, Mark._

_P.S. I’ll be back in September, I’ll stop by to see you._

_PPS.: I gave him something for the trip, he’ll sleep it right off._

Gabriel reads the note three times, feeling more confused by the second. What the hell is he even talking about?

“He’s in your bedroom, Master,” Dennis pipes up and Gabriel groans. Oh no, he didn’t. He hurries up the stairs and down the corridor into his bedroom, Dennis in tow. He doesn’t even know why he’s surprised when he sees the boy kneeling in the middle of the room, his hands tied behind him.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Gabriel murmurs, feeling Dennis tense next to him. It’s not like Gabriel has anything against pleasure slaves. Hell, he’s fucked plenty of them, only that was on parties and he never had to deal with them in the morning. And now he’s stuck with one he didn’t even choose. _Fuck_.

His anger melts a little when he takes a closer look at the boy. His dark blonde hair falls in messy waves all the way down his back and when Gabriel tilts his chin to look at his face, he hums appreciatively. He’s very pretty, with fair skin and sharp cheekbones and full cupid-bow lips. His eyes, even though unfocused and hazy, are the most beautiful shade of blue Gabriel has seen.

Alright, Gabriel admits, he can totally see the appeal. He’s still pissed at Mark from dropping this on him without warning but he’s too exhausted and drunk to do anything about it.

“You can go,” Gabriel says to Dennis, pointing to the door.

“Master, perhaps I could take him to the slave quarters for tonight,” he suggests tentatively.

“I said get out of here,” Gabriel snaps angrily.

“Of course, Master. Good night,” Dennis hastily retreats from the room but not before giving the slave one last worried look.

Once he’s gone, Gabriel groans and takes off the rest of his suit, throwing it over the chair without care. Dennis will take it to be dry-cleaned tomorrow. He’s beat, the alcohol only now catching up to him and he wants nothing but collapse on the bed and pass out but he knows he can’t leave the boy like this.

“Hey,” Gabriel snaps his fingers in front of his face but doesn’t get a reaction. God damn it. How much did Mark give him?

With a sigh he undoes the tight bindings on the slave’s hands to alleviate the pressure on his shoulders. Rummaging through his drawers of toys, he finds a pair of handcuffs with a soft lining on the inside. He clips the boys’ hands together in the front, reluctant to leave him unrestrained.

“Up,” he orders and tugs at his bound hands. He pushes him to lie down on the bed and slips under the covers next to him, throwing his arm and leg over the skinny boy. He’ll deal with all of this properly tomorrow, he promises himself, as he closes his eyes, willing the world to stop spinning around him.

He wakes up to a loud thud and a grunt. His mouth feels like ashtray and there’s an insistent throbbing in his head. He pulls the cover over his head, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep.

“Fuck,” he groans as the events of the last night suddenly come crashing back.

The boy.

He sits up and looks around the room. It must be still early, as there’s barely enough light in the room to make out the silhouette of the slave, his back plastered against the wall, looking around himself with wide, terrified eyes.

“It’s okay,” Gabriel soothes, reaching out his hand invitingly. “Come back to bed.”

The boy doesn’t move and Gabriel gets up from the bed with an annoyed sigh. The slave slides along the wall to put more distance between them, watching him warily.

“Don’t touch me,” he hisses.

“I know you’re confused,” Gabriel tries to keep his tone mild, even though he feels his patience run thin. He’s hung over and tired and is in no mood to argue with a slave right now. “My name is Gabriel Powell. I’m your new master. I’m not going to hurt you, now come back here—”

“Fuck you,” the boy spits out, his voice shaking with anger, tears shining in his brilliantly blue eyes.

Gabriel snorts and goes back to his drawer. He reaches past the obscene red ball gag, and the metal spider gag until he finds a simple black muzzle. It’ll save the boy the humiliation of drooling all over himself and is much more comfortable for a long-term use.

“Clearly you need some time to settle down,” he says as he brings it over. The boy pales at the sight of the gag and tries to bolt for the door. Gabriel grabs him and easily wrestles it on him, considering the boy is about half his size and still pretty out of it.

“It’s okay,” Gabriel shushes, stroking his cheek gently, wiping away a stray tear. “You’d only get yourself in trouble. Now, come here.”

Gabriel clips the handcuffs to the bed’s headrest and then sighs happily once he’s back under the covers.

“Do try not to fidget too much, I tend to get grumpy if I don’t get my sleep.”

With that he turns his back to the slave and goes back to sleep.

When he wakes up again, the sun is high and streaming through the window. He’s feeling much more clear-headed. He stretches languidly and turns around only to be met with a pair of glaring blue eyes.

“Well, hello there,” Gabriel chuckles and pads to the bathroom. After he takes a piss he drinks thirstily directly from the tap until his stomach splashes uncomfortably. There’s still a dull pounding in his head but he does feel a bit more like himself and ready to deal with his little surprise gift.

Walking around the bed, he sits next to the slave, who flinches and glares even harder.

“Alright,” Gabriel sighs. “Are you ready to behave?”

After a long moment of hesitation, the boy nods reluctantly. Gabriel undoes the gag and the boy stretches his jaw. He looks exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes look like bruises, a stark contrast to his sickly pale skin, and his long hair is hanging limply around his face, matted and unruly. He’s still as gorgeous as Gabriel remembers from last night, though.

“What’s your name?” Gabriel asks.

“I’m not fucking telling you,” the boy grits out and Gabriel rubs his forehead.

“One more word that’s not _yes, master_ or _no, master_ out of your mouth, and you’ll be wearing the gag for the rest of the week, are we clear?”

The boy’s eyes go wide but before he can answer, there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Come in!” Gabriel calls and Dennis enters, balancing a tray in his hands.

“Master,” he bows. “I’ve brought you some aspirin, if you’d like. Also, the slave’s papers came with him yesterday, if you want to take a look.”

“Oh, thank you, Dennis,” Gabriel sighs in relief, quickly swallowing the pill, downing it with a whole glass of water. “Give me that,” he takes the slim manila file from the slave’s hand. “And call Dr. Myers if he could come today to check him out,” he adds, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.

There are only two papers from in the file. The original sale contract four years ago and a transfer of ownership to Gabriel.

“Alright, _Erik_ ,” he says, finding his name easily from the contract, ignoring the boy’s heated glare. “Let’s get you up.”

He unclips his hands, leaving the cuffs on, and pulls him from the bed

“Take off your clothes,” he orders. Erik takes a step back, clutching at his rags, giving Gabriel a partly defiant, but mostly terrified look.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, boy,” Gabriel grunts. He really has no patience for this, especially not today. Why the hell did Mark send him a pleasure slave with an attitude? “I’m not going to have sex with you, definitely not before you’re checked by the doctor. And deloused, probably. And I told you, I’m not going to hurt you. Now, take off those dirty rags, you’re going to take a shower.”

Finally, with shaking hands, the boy obeys. As soon as he steps out of his pants, he protectively covers his crotch with his hands, his cheeks turning pink.

Gabriel takes a moment to appreciate the delicate body in front of him. His skin is milk-white and unscarred, even though there are bruises around his hips and thighs. Nothing that won’t fade though. His ribs are showing under his skin, giving him a starved look, and Gabriel clucks his tongue disapprovingly. He likes his boys skinny but this is too much even for him. He makes a mental note to tell Tracy to keep an eye on him to make sure he’s eating enough.

“Don’t hide yourself from me,” Gabriel admonishes him and swats his hands away. Erik obeys, fisting his hands by his side. He bites his lip and looks away, his face turning even brighter red. His cock is a nice size, nestled in light brown curls, and Erik startles violently when Gabriel takes him in his hand.

“You’re quite jumpy, aren’t you?” Gabriel frowns, taking a closer look at the boy, who has his eyes clenched, breathing heavily.

“Not used to being touched?” Gabriel muses. He lets go of his cock and takes the boy’s hand in his. It’s rough, calloused, with little cuts, burns and dirt under his fingernails. “You’re no pleasure slave at all, are you?” Gabriel huffs, incredulous.

At that, Erik’s eyes fly open. “What the fuck? No! I mean,” he hesitates when Gabriel gives him an annoyed look. “No, master,” he mutters.

Gabriel feels a spark of excitement. Having someone inexperienced, teaching him, _molding_ him, he likes the idea. Especially someone as pretty and feisty as Erik here.

“What did you do, then?” he asks, thinking back to the contract. His previous owner was some company Gabriel’s never heard of.

“I worked at a sweatshop—I mean, a factory.”

“Hm,” Gabriel hums and pulls the boy towards the bathroom. “What a waste.”

Gabriel takes off the cuffs, not wanting to ruin the leather, and grabs a simple zip tie instead. He steps inside the large shower cubicle with the boy and secures the boys hands to the shower pipe, ignoring the fearful look Erik gives him.

“Oh, hush,” he says mildly when Erik lets out a little whimper when Gabriel touches his back. “I said I won’t hurt you, didn’t I? I’m just going to wash you.”

“I can wash myself just fine, Master,” Erik grumbles and Gabriel smacks his ass lightly.

“Where’s the fun in that, though,” Gabriel chuckles. He sets the water temperature to just the right side of hot and lathers soap on a washcloth. The boy is rigid and tense at first but eventually his exhaustion seems to win over. He hangs his head and slowly relaxes under Gabriel’s touch. Gabriel washes him thoroughly, not missing a spot, making a mental list of all his bruises and scratches.

When he gets to his crotch, Gabriel strokes the slave’s dick, curious to see what he looks like when erect. To his delight, he starts to fill in his hand almost immediately, even as the boy hides his face in in the crook of his arm and tries to squirm away from his touch.

In a short moment, he’s rock hard and panting and trembling slightly. “It’s okay,” Gabriel whispers in Erik’s ear over the beating of the water. “You can come if you want.”

Erik does with a broken moan, grabbing onto the pipe for support. Gabriel strokes him through it, only stopping when the boy sags, the binding probably the only thing keeping him up.

“See?” Gabriel purrs into his ear. “I can be nice. Don’t take it for granted though. You should thank me.”

Erik pursues his lips and doesn’t say anything but Gabriel lets it slip this time. He’ll learn soon enough. They have time.

Finally, he tilts the boy’s head back and washes his hair. Gabriel’s never washed hair this long and is surprised at how much work it is. He massages half a bottle of conditioner in it, hoping it will help with the tangles, and then rinses it thoroughly.

By the time they’re done, Erik’s eyes are drooping and he’s pliant under Gabriel’s touch. Gabriel wraps him in one of his large fluffy towels and pushes him to kneel on the bathmat, while he looks for a brush. It’s not like he needs one with his hair as short as it is but luckily there’s one of his sister’s, forgotten at the bottom of the drawer.

It takes a long time to comb out all the knots from his hair but it’s weirdly relaxing watching the strands smooth out and flow between his fingers. Erik stays quiet, resting, and soon the tension returns to his shoulders as does the sullen look on his face.

It’s fine, though. Gabriel can’t even begin to imagine what a shock it must be for the boy to go from a sweatshop to the Gabriel’s lavish home. It will take time for him to settle down, that’s to be expected.

Just as Gabriel puts the brush away, there’s a knock on the door. It’s Dennis again, informing him that Dr. Myers just arrived.

“What a great timing,” Gabriel smiles and makes a demanding gesture at Erik to give him the towel. Reluctantly, Erik makes himself loosen his tight hold on the soft material and hands it over, not-so-subtly shooting a hateful glare at Gabriel.

Unperturbed by his attitude, Gabriel puts the cuff back on and clips a short leash to them, leading the boy out of the bedroom and to his office where the doctor is waiting for them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long first day for Erik.

Erik’s mind is spinning as they step out of the bedroom and he stumbles to keep up with master’s swift pace. Even as sluggish as he still feels from whatever drugs that bastard gave him, his face still turns hot at being led naked through the house, desperately hoping they won’t run into anyone.

He tries to make a mental map of this place but it’s hard to focus. His stomach is twisting painfully in hunger, making him shaky. When was the last time he ate? It feels like days. He realizes he doesn’t even know how much time has passed since he left the sweatshop or how far from there he is and the thought gives him vertigo.

Luckily they don’t go far and soon master pushes him through another door into a large bright room. In its center is a monstrous table with a computer and several screens. There’s a high-back black leather chair and two more simple chairs on the opposite side of the table, where Erik guesses anyone having an audience with master would sit.

He thinks back to the few times he got called to Master Renard’s office, a dingy room that looked more like a repurposed storage room with boxes and clutter lying everywhere. Not that he remembers much of it, as terrified as he was, but he knows he had a table with a high-back chair too. Every master probably has one of those.

A movement on his right brings him back and only now does he notice an older man sitting on a sofa, drinking tea from a fancy china cup. He looks at him curiously over his glasses and Erik drops his gaze. He’d take a step back if the leash wasn’t holding him in place.

“Doc! Thank you for coming. I know it’s your day off.”

The man just waves his hand dismissively and puts the cup down with a cling. “It’s no problem, sir. Congratulation on your new purchase.”

“I didn’t buy him,” master snorts. “More like, a surprise gift.”

Erik startles. Of course. He only now remembers the short, dark-haired man. It all happened in a blur. He was dragged from his station so fast he didn’t even get to get his stash from behind the lose brick under his cot. His heart sinks. _His things_.

And the man waiting for him by the sweatshop door was definitely not his master. No, his master is tall and lean with short light brown hair and perfectly trimmed goatee. He looks older than Erik, probably in mid-thirties but he’s not a bad looking man. Small mercies, Erik thinks, and shudders when he thinks back to master Renard.

There’s a hand cupping his face and he jerks away. Master gives him what almost looks like a worried look.

“I know you’re tired but focus. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can rest.”

Erik nods, blinking. He must have zoned out and time skipped on him. The doctor is now watching him intently, a tablet in his hand, and when the hell did Erik get on his knees next to master, who’s now sitting on the sofa?

“Okay, I’ll just put in some basic info,” the doctor says, tapping on his screen quickly. “Name is Erik, you said. How old is he?”

“Twenty, according to the contract.”

He’s actually nineteen. Not that it matters.

“How many masters have you had, boy?”

“Just one, sir,” Erik mumbles tiredly. Master’s thigh is just a few inches from his face. How easy it would be to just rest his head there.

“When did you get sold?”

“Four years ago. I think. When I was fif—sixteen.” Of course his father had to add one year to be able to sell him. “As a debt slave.”

“Hm,” Master hums disapprovingly and runs his fingers through Erik’s hair, scraping his scalp gently. Fuck that feels good, though. Erik shivers and involuntarily presses closer.

“Look at him, doc,” master chuckles. “Such a waste for someone as pretty as him to be worked to an early death in a sweatshop, wouldn’t you say? You got sold by your parents, boy?”

“My f-father,” Erik admits, clenching his eyes. “He was a—he did a lot of gambling.” The only reason Erik ended in the sweatshop was because his father owned master Renard a shitload of money. If he were any smarter, which he wasn’t, that fucking piece of shit, he’d ship Erik off to some rich pervert as a sextoy. Something like where he is now. How ironic.

“Happens much too often,” the doctor shakes his head sadly. “Especially in the poorer parts. Should be illegal, if you ask me,” he sighs. “But anyway. I’m going to ask you some questions, boy, and I need you to be honest with me.”

Master’s hand is back in his hair, twisting at the nape of Erik’s neck in what feels like a silent warning.

“Did your previous master use you for sex?”

“Sometimes,” Erik shrugs. “Mostly it was the other slaves and overseers.”

When Erik came to the factory, he was the youngest and smallest. And the prettiest, they said. No wonder they came after him immediately. He fought them every night and most nights he lost and ended up pressed against the dirty floor as they fucked him. Other times, though, they were too tired to chase him or he hid so well they got bored and let him be.

“When was the last time you had sex?” the doctor continues dispassionately, not lifting his eyes from his screen.

“Um,” Erik hesitates. “When was I last at the sweatshop?”

“Yesterday,” master answers.

“Well, then. Yesterday.”

Was that really just one day ago? It feels surreal, like it happened in another lifetime. But no. He still aches down there.

“How many sexual partners have you had?”

Erik wants to snort at the word _partners_ but stops himself. “I haven’t kept a fucking diary,” he snaps and master tightens the hold in his hair, making his eyes water. “Fuck, I don’t know, sir. A lot.”

“Okay,” the doctor sighs, putting the tablet away. From his bag he gets a pair of gloves and a small flashlight. “I’m just going to have a look, if you don’t mind.”

Master lets him up, unclipping his hands, his face still clouded over. Probably pissed he won’t be the one to pop his cherry, Erik thinks spitefully.

The doc’s hands are cool and dry and his touch firm but professional as he shines into Erik’s ears and mouth and probes at his bruises in various stages of healing.

“He looks fine,” he finally concludes and Erik sags. “Malnourished and dehydrated, but nothing that would require hospitalization. Just keep an eye on his eating habits but he should be back to a healthy weight soon. Now bend over the table here, please, I’m going to check for any damage down there.”

“What?” Erik startles, taking a few steps back, ignoring the warning glare of his master. “There’s no need. I’m fine, I swear. I didn’t even bleed the last time. I swear!”

Master’s face softens. He still grabs Erik in one swift motion and presses him to bend over the table with surprising strength. Erik tries to buck him off but soon gives up, panting.

“Shush,” master says soothingly. “It won’t take long.”

A gloved hand spreads his cheeks and Erik clenches his eyes against the humiliation. Then a finger presses in, probing and the next moment it’s over. With a snap the doctor removes his gloves and master releases his hold. Erik slumps to the floor, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He is so fucking done with this day. What he’d give for his hard, smelly cot if it meant he got to curl up and pass out right now.

“It’s not that bad,” he hears the doctor say and suppresses the urge to yell at them that he fucking told them so. “Nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days. I’ll prescribe him a salve, to make sure, but he’ll be fine.”

“Good, that’s good,” master nods, and Erik allows himself a little breath of relief.

“I’ll just take some blood for STI tests and we’ll be done.”

Erik groans miserably. He fucking hates needles. And he’s not particularly thrilled about parting with any of his blood either, as weak as he feels.

“I’m probably gonna pass out,” he mumbles as he watches the doctor put on a new pair of gloves and ready a syringe.

“Come here.”

To his surprise, master guides him to lie down on the sofa with his head on his lap. “Don’t look,” he instructs and Erik closes his eyes, happy to obey, as master starts to run his fingers through Erik’s hair again. The prick of the needle barely registers and soon the doctor is packing his things and leaves with a promise to call master as soon as he has the results.

There’s a short lull in which master just lets him rest, typing something on his phone. Erik thinks he might have dozed off because he startles awake at the soft knock on the door.

“Okay, sweetheart, up you go,” master nudges him. Erik quickly gets up, embarrassed for letting his guard down like this. His embarrassment only doubles when the older slaver, Dennis—Erik remembers—enters the study.

“Dennis, did you bring the collar? Good.”

Master takes the sleek black collar from Dennis. It looks very high-tech and locks around Erik’s neck a whir. Even sitting snugly against his throat, Erik barely feels it, as smooth and light as it. Nothing like the robust metal ones they had to wear at the factory.

“Perfect,” master murmurs, giving Erik an appreciative look that makes his face grow hot. “Dennis,” he snaps his fingers then. “Get Erik settled in. I want him fed and then straight to bed. I’ll be back in the evening.”

With that he leaves and Erik eyes the other slave warily. He’s older, his neatly combed black hair streaked with silver. He has deep-set serious eyes and is now watching Erik thoughtfully. Subtly, Erik takes a step to the side to give himself a better access to the door if the man grabs at him. Not the he thinks he would dare. Not yet, anyway, with master not even out of the house yet.

“Here, put these on,” Dennis hands him a small pile and Erik hastily takes it from him. He could weep with relief as he puts on the simple shirt and a pair of sweatpants. The material is unbelievably soft and comfortable, screaming luxury like everything else in this place.

“Yeah, I thought you’d be about the same size as Jerry,” he nods, satisfied. “Follow me.”

Erik falls behind, keeping an arm’s length distance, as the Dennis leads him through the house. “That was master’s study, as you probably figured out. You are to never go there without a permission. The rest of the house you can roam pretty much freely. Except Mistress’ room of course. Don’t even go near there. And when you meet her, show some respect, she won’t have you glare at her as you did at master,” Dennis smiles.

“I wasn’t glaring,” Erik mutters under his breath but Dennis just waves his hand. He stops by one of the built-in cabinets and opens it with his key.

“Here you go,” he piles clean bedsheets, a towel and a new unopened toothbrush and hands it to Erik. “Anything else?”

“Um,” Erik looks at the pile. “Shoes?” he tries hopefully, glancing wistfully at Dennis’ sturdy sneakers.

“Sorry, kid,” Dennis locks the cabinet again. “I don’t think you’ll be needing those.”

Erik tries not to pout as they walk down a marble staircase into a spacious kitchen. A petite woman with a large boning knife looks up from her half-finished chicken. There’s a collar around her neck too, only much simpler, almost decorative.

“Tracy, this is Erik. Get him something to eat,” Dennis says and steers Erik to sit at a small breakfast table by the window. Tracy immediately puts the knife down, wipes her hand on her apron and goes to the fridge. It is clear Dennis is very much in charge of the others here and Erik makes a mental note to try stay on his good side. He knows pretty well just how shittier an overseer can make the life of a slave.

“We usually eat here. Breakfast’s at seven, lunch at twelve and dinner at six,” Dennis says and Erik tries to store the information in his head even though it’s hard to focus with the smell of something delicious wafting from the stove. “There’s a formal dining room down the hall where Master and Mistress take their meals. Sometimes we’re required to wait on them, especially if they have guests. I don’t know about your duties, that’s up to master.”

Tracy places a bowl of soup in front of him and Erik loses the last trace of inhibition. He pulls it close to his chest and starts to gulp it down, barely registering the taste of what he’s eating.

“Slow down,” Tracy stops him by grabbing his wrist and Erik contemplates just snatching the bowl and hiding somewhere to eat it before they find him. “There’ll be more food later. I won’t have master pissed at me if puke it all out.”

Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to put the spoon down. Already his stomach feels uneasy and he takes a moment for the food the settle. Under the watchful gaze of Dennis and Tracy, he slowly finishes the bowl and slumps in the chair. Fuck, he’s tired. His limbs feel like lead and he’d probably curl on the floor in the corner if he thought they’d let him.

“Alright, follow me.”

Erik drags himself up and follows Dennis. They stop in front of another flight of stairs down into what must be the basement.

“Is that where the slaves are kept?” Erik asks, watching the descent into darkness with trepidation. Fuck, he hates basements. Humid and smelly with rats scurrying everywhere. Even in the factory the basement with cages was reserved only for those who didn’t meet the quota. It was a good motivation and Erik only had to sleep there for like two weeks in the four years.

“Yes, this is the slave quarters,” Dennis nods and flicks on the light. Erik can’t help but gape as they make their way down into a cosy furnished room. This is _nothing_ like the basement in the factory. There’s a soft beige carpet and there are no molds or cobwebs on the nicely painted walls. There’s even a TV. A _fucking TV_. And a sofa and shelves with books.

“This is the rec room,” Dennis says casually as if it wasn’t the most absurd thing ever. “This door here is our shared bathroom. Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

Dennis opens a door just a short way down the corridor and gestures for Erik to come in. Curiously, he peeks in, his heart beating. It’s an actual fucking room. With two actual beds with fucking _matrasses_ and night stands with little lamps. The only thing missing is a window.

“I’m going to put you in with Jerry for now, you’ll meet him later. Here, this is your bed. Get some rest.”

Once he’s alone, he stands in the middle of the room, waiting for _something_ to happen. For the ground to open and swallow him or maybe for him to finally have the freak-out he’s been holding back ever since he woke up in a strange man’s bed. When nothing happens, he curls on the bed, not bothering to put the bedsheets on, and pulls the blanket over his head. He’s out before he can put together a coherent thought.

He’s woken up some time later by some commotion. There are voices, a sharp and raised one and a soft one. Erik can’t remember where he is, the sleep dragging him down; trying to wake up is like swimming against a heavy current.

At some point, he thinks he hears someone say “Why the hell did he put him here?” and then he’s carried somewhere by strong arms. He can’t really find it in himself to care because soon he’s in a bed again and he goes back to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The boy sleeps through the rest of the evening and through the whole night. He didn’t even wake up when Gabriel carried him from the slaves’ quarters, cursing Dennis for not putting his _bedwarmer_ into his bed.

At first he curled himself into a tight ball but at some point during the night he finally relaxes and sprawls his skinny limbs across the bed, snoring slightly. He looks adorable and so peaceful; Gabriel spends a good ten minutes just watching him sleep, his hair strewn all over the pillow like some kind of blond halo. Gabriel snaps a quick picture, unable to resist.

Of course the peacefulness doesn’t last long. It’s still quite early in the morning when Erik sits up, fully awake and looking around himself in alarm.

“What—Where—?” he gasps out. He makes a move to scramble out of the bed but then sees Gabriel and stops in his track. His face falls as he seems to remember where exactly he is.

“Come here,” Gabriel opens his arms and Erik tenses all over, but after a beat of hesitation he reluctantly put his feet back on the bed.

“Good boy,” Gabriel murmurs as he takes his hand and pulls him closer, spooning him from behind. Erik’s smaller form fits perfectly and Gabriel rests his chin on the top of his head, sighing contently. Erik, on the other hand, is taut as a bowstring, breathing raggedly. It takes a long time for him to relax at least a little, his body clearly unable to keep up this level of fear.

Gabriel hooks a finger in the waistband of the boy’s pants and pulls them down as far as he can, using his feet to then take them off completely.

“From now on, you’ll be sleeping in my bed. Naked. I hate bothering with clothes,” he murmurs into his ear as he finally wrangles the clothing away. Erik doesn’t answer, only frowns defiantly, and Gabriel fists his hand Erik’s hair, pulling harshly.

“What do you say?”

Erik sets his lips, remaining stubbornly quiet, and Gabriel grins nastily. “I can take your clothes altogether and have you walk around the house naked all the time, should I?”

“No, master,” Erik shakes his head, his eyes going wide.

“Hm,” Gabriel pretends to consider. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please,” he mutters and Gabriel huffs.

“You can do better than that.”

“May I please keep my clothes, master,” he grits out reluctantly, his face turning red. Gabriel chuckles and releases his hold.

“Well, okay,” Gabriel concedes benevolently.

Reaching down, he takes hold of Erik’s cock, stroking him leisurely. Erik’s breath hitches and he bites his lip as he starts to grow hard in Gabriel’s hand. Oh, so beautifully responsive. It really was such a waste for him to toil in a sweatshop.

Gabriel flicks his thumb over the head of his cock, gathering the precome, and Erik lets out a strangled moan, helplessly thrusting his hip. Gabriel loosens his grip, just leisurely teasing Erik’s erection, while with his other hand he gets his phone from the nightstand.

There’s still time before he has to get up. He browses the news, answers a few emails, while he toys with Erik, stroking him from time to time whenever he feels his boner start to flag, stopping when his breath quickens dangerously and he seems to be getting closer. The groans of frustration that Erik makes are the most delicious sounds.

“Master,” Erik whines petulantly after a while when Gabriel once again lets go of his hard-on.

“Alright,” Gabriel lets up, wiping his sticky hand on Erik’s chest, grinning at the boy’s look of disgust. “Go take a shower. We’ll have breakfast after.”

With a sigh, Erik gets out of the bed, his cheeks flushed, his hard dick bobbing between his legs. What a sight.

“Oh, and Erik,” Gabriel says casually, not lifting his eyes from the stock exchange report he’s reading. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself. Ever. Should I catch you breaking this rule, I’ll lock your dick in a cage and you won’t be coming for a month.”

Erik freezes, giving Gabriel a horrified look, his teeth clenched. After a beat, he turns on his heel and stomps into the bathroom all but slamming the door behind him. Gabriel huffs a laugh. This is entirely too much fun.

The next moment the sound of shower comes through the door and Gabriel leans back. It occurs to him that he never did thank Mark and puts together a short email, attaching the picture of sleeping Erik.

Next he has a look at his calendar and groans. He has three meetings and that’s only before lunch. As much as he would love to, there’s no way he can stay home and spend the entire day in bed with the boy.

It takes a long time for Erik to finish his shower. So long Gabriel starts to grow suspicious what he’s doing in there and wondering whether he would really dare to break his rules so fast.

When he finally comes out, his skin is all pink and wrinkled and he protectively holds a towel around his waist.

Gabriel gets out of bed and yanks it out of his hand, throwing it on the ground. Erik yelps in surprise and tries to take a step back but Gabriel holds him still.

“I hope for your own sake you behaved in the shower,” he growls. He gives his dick a few quick pumps and Erik moans, growing hard immediately. Gabriel smiles, satisfied. Even as young as he is, there is no way he could get hard this fast if he just rubbed one off.

“Good boy,” Gabriel smirks, ignoring the heated look Erik gives him before averting his eyes. Gabriel sits back on the bed, spreading his legs invitingly. “Come here.”

If he expected any fight from the boy, he would be mistaken. Erik goes without a protest, sinking to his knees between Gabriel’s legs with a resigned face. Of course this isn’t his first time, Gabriel thinks sourly. How many men made use of his mouth before in the sweatshop? The thought makes hot possessive anger grow in Gabriel’s chest.

Erik quickly undoes Gabriel’s pants and takes his half-hard dick in his mouth. He tenses, glancing up unsurely.

“Go on, sweetheart,” Gabriel encourages, leaning down on his hands. If Erik expects him to fuck his mouth roughly, Gabriel’s going to prove him wrong. Haltingly at first, Erik sucks him, fumbling, before growing bolder and finding his rhythm. Gabriel lets him go at his pace, playing up his moans to encourage him. Erik’s not half-bad and Gabriel come into his mouth a few minutes later.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Gabriel quickly grabs Erik’s hair when he makes a face and looks as if he’s about to spit it out. “Swallow,” he orders sternly and Erik obeys, shuddering.

“Good boy,” Gabriel praises, gently stroking the boy’s cheek. “Beautiful”.

He _is_ beautiful, with his lips red and puffy and—Gabriel glanced down—yep, still hard, even though he’s trying to hide it with his hands.

“Let’s go, I’m starving.”

\--°°--

Once he puts back on his clothes from yesterday, master cuffs his hands again and clips them together at his back. He then leaves the bedroom without another word and Erik hurries to follows.

He still feels a bit groggy and not a least bit frustrated. Luckily, his half-mast is barely noticeable in his sweatpants. He still hasn’t gotten over the fact that master forbid him to touch himself. Fucking seriously? Even in the sweatshop he could wank off. Not that he had much time or energy for that but still. He could, if he wanted to.

It’s just all so confusing. As much as he hates to admit it, he hasn’t felt this rested and good in years. Fuck, he can’t remember the last time he slept more than five uninterrupted hours. And the shower in master’s bathroom was the most incredible thing ever with deliciously hot water and pressure that felt like a massage on his sore muscles. He took his time, experimenting with all the settings and different types of jets built in the shower wall and still master hasn’t barged in, demanding to know what’s taking so long.

And then when master told him to suck him off, Erik was almost relieved. He’s done it enough times to know what to expect and it was always the preferable variant to getting fucked even though getting choked on a dick was not that pleasant either. Master didn’t choke him, though, and then his heart did a weird complicated thing at the way master looked at him and called him a good boy. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever called him that. Not that he wants to be called a good boy. He doesn’t!

They go down the stairs and Erik pushes his little existential crisis to the back of his mind, focusing instead on keeping his balance without the use of his hands. That’s what he has to do. Just focus on surviving, one step at a time. There’s nothing he’ll gain if keeps tying himself in knots.

The dining room has a large solid wood table with six cushioned high-back chairs. The ceiling-to-floor windows are cracked open, letting in fresh morning air.

“Oh my god, Gabe, so it really is true!” a woman jumps from the table excitedly, and Erik flinches. She looks young, maybe Erik’s age. Her shoulder-length wavy hair is dyed pastel pink color that immediately makes Erik think of the cheap kind of bubble gum they used to buy as kids. “Let me look at him!”

“Good morning to you, too, sister,” Gabriel sighs but pushes Erik, who has unconsciously taken a step closer to master, in front of him.

“He’s gorgeous!” she exclaims, taking his chin in her hand, her long nails digging in Erik’s cheeks, and turning his face side to side. “Really, just look at his face. And the hair! Can I borrow him sometimes? I _have_ to have him. Please!”

Erik’s heart picks up. He doesn’t want to get lent out to her. Whatever that means. Dealing with one master is more than enough.

“Maybe later,” master answers non-committally.

“But—Gabe,” she whines.

“No,” master raises his hand. “He’s been here _one_ day. You have to wait.”

“You’re no fun,” she grumbles but goes sit back down. Master takes a seat on the other side of the table and points to a spot next to him. Erik takes the hint and kneels next to the chair, grateful for the soft carpet underneath.

A boy enters a moment later with a tray loaded with food, giving master an awkward little bow. He’s slim and short, maybe about Erik’s size, and Erik’s struck with how good-looking he is. With blond curly hair and large blue eyes, he looks like an angel or a doll.

“Master,” the boy says softly as he plates the food in front of master.

“Thank you, Jerry,” master says and Erik’s eyes snap up. Oh, so this was supposed to be his new roommate. Before he can get a better look at him, though, the boy makes a hasty retreat out of the room.

Erik’s mouth waters at the smell of the food. Oh, he hates this. Having to listen to the clinking of cutlery and his master’s chewing while his stomach is turning on itself. Will he be fed after master’s breakfast? Wait, Dennis said breakfast’s at seven. Has he missed it? Does that mean he has to wait until lunch?

Then there’s a hand in front of his face holding a slice of orange and Erik startles. He Erik glances up, unsure, only to see master looking at him expectantly, giving him a pointed look.

Gingerly he takes it from his fingers, barely suppressing the moan as the sweat juice explodes in his parched mouth. He hasn’t had fresh fruit in years and forgot how incredibly sweet and tasty it can be.

Master’s hand is still there, waiting. A part of Erik wants to refuse but another, louder part wants more of that delicious orange. With a sigh, he shuffles a bit closer and takes master’s finger in his mouth, licking the residues of the sweet sticky juice.

It seems to do the trick because the next moment there’s yet another slice. After the orange, he’s fed pieces of eggs, and buttered toast, and little sausages and bacon. Erik eats it hungrily and gratefully, his humiliation forgotten at getting to eat _real_ food, taking sips of water and juice from a glass held to his lips.

He’s just getting uncomfortably full, thinking about whether he should risk eating any more, when master puts the fork down and pushes the plate away.

Master takes a white cloth napkin then and bends down. Erik jerks away but it doesn’t do him any good, as master just grabs his hair to hold him in place while he wipes his face.

“Such a messy eater,” he smirks and Erik’s face turns hot in indignation. “Alright, I have to go to work. Hanna, see you later. Erik, get up.”

“Be good,” he whispers as he frees his hands and leans for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the evening.”

When he’s gone, Erik is left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, Mistress looking at him with a glint in her eyes that Erik absolutely does not like. Giving a stilted bow, he turns around and bolts out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik earns his first punishment

Once Erik’s out of the room, he doesn’t stop. He takes a random turn, running down the corridor. He doesn’t know the house and it’s stressing him out; in the factory, he knew every nook, every tiny hiding space where only he could fit.

With master out of the house, he feels weirdly vulnerable. At one point he almost crashes into Dennis who comes from behind the corner but avoids the collision at the last moment. Dennis attempts to grab him but Erik ducks and sprints away, ignoring Dennis calling his name after him.

All rational thought is pushed out of Erik’s head, replaced by the visceral need to hide. He always had a place to hide, a place where he could just _be_ , gather his thoughts and lick his wounds. Of course, sooner or later he always got found and then had to find a different spot but the need is there, stronger than ever in this new confusing place.

When he notices an open glass door leading to what looks like the garden, he doesn’t hesitate. As soon as his bare feet touch the soft wet grass, he stutters to a halt, taking a lungful of the fresh air. Unbidden, tears spring to his eyes. He hasn’t been outside in four years if he doesn’t count his trip here. Which he doesn’t, considering he doesn’t remember anything from it.

All there was in the sweatshop was a tiny round window by the ceiling. Sometimes he saw the clouds move by or raindrops run down the dirty glass but that was it. When he looks up now at the endless blue sky, his head swims, overwhelmed by sheer magnitude of it.

The sun is hot on his face. Too hot. When he looks around the huge garden surrounded by a tall sandstone wall, his stomach sinks. The trees are all wrong, nothing like what he remembers from home, the grass is way too green and there are lush pink flowers growing in tall bushes, taller than the wall, that would have never survived the harsh northern climate. With an unshakeable certainty he knows at that moment he’s very far from home, from anyone and anything he ever knew.

A sound from inside the house brings him out of his reverie. Fuck. He’s probably not supposed to outside, is he? Without really thinking, he makes his way silently to a large tree by the wall. Climbing up is not easy and he scratches his legs and breaks his nail in the process but once he reaches the branches, it’s an easy going. As small and light as he is, he makes his way all the way to the top where he’s perfectly hidden from sight by thick leaves.

His breath hitches when takes a look around him. Master’s house is on a hill and all the way down below them is the ocean, shimmering in the sun, with a strip of white sand beach with tiny dots moving around that must be the people enjoying a nice day out. Erik’s never seen the ocean. He wishes he could hear the waves but he can almost taste the salty air in his mouth. Or maybe he’s just imagining it.

It’s peaceful up here though. He finds a comfy spot between the branches and just enjoys the breeze at his face, watching the ants and bugs crawling around the branches in fascination. This high up it’s easy to forget how much his life sucks.

He is brought abruptly into reality when some time later he hears Dennis calling his name. Erik freezes, gripping the branch tightly and doesn’t dare breathe as he watches Dennis come into the garden, looking around.

“Erik? If you’re here, come out right now!” he calls.

Fuck, he sounds pretty pissed. Erik needs to get down right now before he gets himself into even more trouble. Maybe he could explain, maybe Dennis wouldn’t tell on him, maybe…

Before he can make himself move, Dennis pulls out a phone. He turns around and returns inside the house, but Erik can still hear him say ‘ _Master, I apologize for disturbing you…’_ before he closes the door behind him.

Erik’s stomach turns ice cold. Oh god. He is truly fucked now. Immediately he thinks of the boy who tried to run from the factory once. He didn’t make it far, of course, and was dragged back just an hour later and whipped so hard there was barely any skin left on his back. The rest of them were made watch and Erik will never get that image out of his mind, no matter how hard he’s tried.

And it wasn’t like master Renard to waste a worker like that, the greedy bastard that he was. Clearly, showing what would happen if anyone else ever got the idea to run was more important though. And now his new master thinks he’s run and there’s no telling what he’ll do.

All rational thought leaves his head as panic takes over and he’s completely frozen in fear. He can’t do anything but hold onto the branches for his dear life.

\--°°--

The board meeting is dragging on for too long, as usual, with everyone feeling the need to go into every excruciating detail of every graph they present. Gabriel can’t help but let his thoughts wander and inevitably they always go back to Erik.

He hopes he’s okay. Yesterday he was pretty much out of it but today is basically his first day alone in his new home. He only hopes he won’t get himself in too much trouble

Gabriel’s phone starts to vibrate and he knows as soon as he sees Dennis’ name on the screen that his hopes were in vain. Dennis knows not to call him at work unless the house’s on fire or someone’s dying.

“What happened?” Gabriel barks as soon as he excuses himself and closes the door behind him.

“Master, I apologize for disturbing, I know—”

“Oh, save it,” Gabriel rolls his eyes impatiently. “What is it?”

“I, uh. I can’t find Erik.”

“Give me a second.”

Cursing internally, he puts the call on hold and starts the tracking app, thankful now he decided to use the collar with built-in GPS. What if Erik managed to get down to town already? It’s not safe, he could get hurt or taken to the center if he’s caught running.

Finally, the map loads and Gabriel sighs in relief.

“He’s still on the property,” he tells Dennis. “In the garden, specifically. Leave him be, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Yes, master. Thank you, master,” Dennis sounds just as relieved.

For the rest of the day he keeps glancing on his phone but the red dot doesn’t move. Not even when it’s lunch time. Gabriel has half a mind to send Dennis to drag him out of his hide-out but then decides to see how long the boy will hold out.

The answer turns out to be the whole day. With every hour that Erik doesn’t move, Gabriel’s irritation grows. What the hell is he doing? Is he testing him? Is he trying to find out how long it will take for Gabriel to go looking for him? To see how much he can get away with?

Anger is simmering beneath his skin as he drives back home in the evening. The sun is getting low, painting the sky a radiant mix of pink and orange but Gabriel is in no mood to admire the sunset.

He heads to the garden right away, his map leading him to one of the large trees. For a moment he’s worried the GPS is wrong but when he cranes his neck and looks up he see him, all the way up. He looks utterly miserable and exhausted and immediately Gabriel feels some of the anger drain away.

“Are you ready to come down now?” Gabriel asks, keeping his tone casual. Erik gives a jerky nod and starts to slowly climb down. A moment later he lands gracelessly next to Gabriel but before he can give him an earful, the boy sinks to the ground. To Gabriel’s surprise, he prostrates himself in front of him, his forehead pressed to the grass, his hands extended pleadingly.

“I’m sorry, master,” he mutters desperately. “Please, I swear I wasn’t trying to run. I was only—I didn’t… Please!”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, boy,” Gabriel sighs, equal parts annoyed and worried. “I sure hope you weren’t trying to run because that would be a pretty pathetic attempt. Now get up,” he jerks him up and leads him toward the house.

The boy is terrified, he can tell, but Gabriel is in no mood for coddling him. He heads straight for the bedroom and shuts the door behind them.

Erik stumbles inside and then goes to his knees, shrinking on himself.

“Now, what the hell were you doing there?” he asks sternly but unsurprisingly, the boy remains silent, eyes trained on the ground.

“Not feeling like talking, huh? Fine. Pants down, lean over the bed, hands behind your back,” he instructs curtly. Erik clenches his teeth but then gets up and in jerky movements undresses and assumes the position.

Gabriel goes to his drawer and pulls out a simple wooden paddle. Erik is twisting his neck from where’s lying and his eyebrows knit in confusion when he sees what Gabriel’s holding.

“Fifteen for disobeying Dennis, making him call me at work, fifteen for missing lunch, or any food or water for that matter. And I’ll add ten on top of that every time you break the position, so I advise you to stay still.”

He doesn’t hold back when he lands the first hit with a loud smack. Erik grunts and flinches in surprise but grabs his wrists even tighter and doesn’t move. Immediately his white skin turns an angry shade of pink and Gabriel wants to rub the sore spot.

This is not the time though. This is not for Gabriel’s pleasure but to show the boy that he won’t get away with blatant disobedience on his second day here.

He lands the hits in quick succession, not keen on dragging it out. Soon Erik goes on his tiptoes with every hit, whining miserably into the bed covers and squirming in his need to get away from the pain but stays put.

“Good boy,” Gabriel says softly when he reaches thirty and puts the paddle away. Erik sags, his legs trembling, but still doesn’t break the position. “Now go take a shower.”

\--°°--

On shaky legs Erik slinks into the bathroom. First he takes a piss, which he’s been desperately needing to for hours and then drinks from the tap, sputtering, the cold water feeling heavenly on his dry throat.

Twisting around in front of the mirror he looks at his bright red ass and thighs and feels hysterical laughter threaten to spill out of his mouth _._ Not that it doesn’t hurt because it _does_ , like a bitch, but he expected _so much worse_. And here he is, still standing, breathing and relatively intact.

 _The worst might yet to come_ , a voice whispers in his head. He might be locked away in a cage for the night. Or longer. Hell, he might be packed away tonight, sent to yet another hellhole where he’ll never see the light of the day again. Erik finds it disconcerting how much the thought of leaving already twists his stomach in fear.

Nothing he can do about it though, and so he pushes the thought to the background as he quickly scrubs himself in the shower in lukewarm water.

He doesn’t bother with a towel this time as he reluctantly steps out of the bathroom. His eyes go wide when he sees the trolley loaded with food.

“Eat,” master hands him a plate with a generously loaded sandwich and fries and snaps his fingers to the floor. Erik sits down and hisses, quickly changing his position to lean his weight on his hips, cradling the plate to his chest.

Above him, master smirks. He plops down in an armchair propping his legs on the bed, and starts on his own dinner.

After a moment of hesitation, Erik takes a first bite. It’s delicious, with egg that drips yolk all over his hands. Also it’s kind of nice to be able to feed himself even though deep down it stings a bit, knowing his master is probably still mad at him.

“I’m going to say the rules again, so that we are clear,” master says calmly after they eat their respective meals. Erik straightens up and tries not to show his irritation at the word _again_. As if master already told him the rules. Erik’s not stupid, though, he assumed a lot of the rules from just watching. And also Dennis told him a little bit. Still, he nods and listens carefully.

“You are to obey me or Dennis when I’m not here. And my sister of course. You are not allowed to skip meals and I will hear about it if you don’t eat. You’re not allowed into my study or my sister’s rooms. What you are allowed to do is ask questions and talk, I don’t mind that. Usually. I mean within limits.”

Erik keeps his head down, afraid that his face shows his annoyance at the vague orders.

“Oh, and of course, you’re not allowed to touch yourself. Or hurt yourself,” he adds, his eyes going to Erik’s scraped legs. With a sigh he gets up and Erik tenses. He only goes to the bathroom though, and comes back a moment later with a small first-aid kit.

“Why in the world did you climb that tree?” he asks as he pours some disinfectant on the gauze and starts to clean the debris from the deep scratches.

“I only wanted to—” _Hide. Feel Safe._ “—be outside,” he finishes and then wants to bite his tongue off the moment the words leave his mouth. Stupid. He should never tell master what he wants and give him ideas what to take away.

A sad smile flickers across master’s face but he doesn’t say anything. He puts the supplies away and gets up.

“Get in the bed,” he orders softly and Erik struggles for a moment to make his limbs move. He’s exhausted, between spending the whole day outside in the hot weather and the emotional turmoil and stress of the punishment, he wants nothing but to sleep. Nonetheless, he tries not to look as reluctant as he feels as he gingerly gets on top of the bed.

“Under the covers,” master instructs and then lies down next to him, still clothed, leaning on a pillow, a tablet in his hand. “I still got some work to do. Come here.”

It takes a moment for Erik to understand what master means exactly, but then he awkwardly shuffles closer, pressing to master’s side.

“Good night,” master kisses the top of his head gently. Erik lies still, not daring to move a muscle, waiting for something to happen, but master doesn’t pay him any attention, tapping softly on his tablet, from time to time reaching down to pet Erik’s hair.

Eventually, the exhaustion wins over and he closes his eyes, all too ready to leave this day behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Erik wakes up slowly, warm and comfortable and snuggled close, wrapped in strong arms. He hums contently, pressing even closer and hears a chuckle above him. That’s when he remembers exactly where he is and he’s suddenly wide awake, feeling his cheeks turn red in mortification.

“That’s alright, pet,” master pulls him closer when he tenses and tries to inch away. “I let you sleep in, you looked like you needed it.”

Erik sighs and tries to relax again but is now all too aware of his master’s naked body close to his and super self-conscious of his morning wood, which he desperately tries to keep from touching master’s thigh.

Soon, when master continues tapping on his phone, he gets bored, too.

“Are you working, master?” Erik says softly, testing the water. Afterall, he is allowed to ask questions. _Within limits._ Whatever that means.

Master raises his eyebrows and looks away from the screen. “Yes, indeed I am,” he answers with a small smile.

“What do you do?” Erik asks, encouraged.

“I’m the CEO of the Powell Industries. We make everything from medical equipment to car parts.”

Erik mulls it over, frowning. “So you’re like the boss, master?”

“Yes, you could say that,” Gabriel laughs.

“I always thought the boss doesn’t have to work, only tells others what to do.” Like master Renard. He had people for everything. All he did was count the money at the end of the week and if it wasn’t enough, he had someone whipped.

Master puts the phone away and looks at Erik, grinning. “Are you saying I should pay more attention to you?” he asks suggestively and Erik swallows. Why the hell didn’t he shut up?

“Get on all fours,” he orders, sitting up, phone forgotten. Fear flutters in his stomach. Is master going to fuck him? It’s not like he didn’t know it was coming but foolishly he was hoping for a few more days of respite.

Master is watching him expectantly, though, and Erik makes himself move, going on his hands and knees. A large hand presses between his shoulder blades and Erik has no choice but to lower his head on his forearms. This puts his ass invitingly in the air and Erik is grateful now that his long hair hides his bright red face.

Master kneads his cheeks and Erik can’t help but let out a hiss.

“Sore?” he asks and Erik rolls his eyes. Of course he’s sore. He got paddled hard yesterday; Master was definitely not holding back.

“A bit, yeah,” he answers sarcastically and then yelps when master smacks his ass. “I mean, yes, master,” he grits between his teeth.

“Better. You’d better watch that tone of yours. Now, stay.”

The fear returns in renewed strength when he hears master rummage in the night stand drawer. He takes a steadying breath. It’s fine. It’s no big deal. He knows he can take it.

His heart picks up at the click of a bottle being opened and he braces himself.

“Cold,” master warns but Erik still flinches when he squirts lube directly on his hole. The next moment master’s thumb is circling the tight ring of muscles, pressing gently.

“I need you to tell me if anything hurts. I don’t want to injure you, trust me. Now relax, sweetheart, breathe.”

Erik only now realizes he’s been holding his breath and gasps for air. Master’s finger slips in, probing carefully, shortly pressing on his sweet spot, making Erik’s breath hitch.

“Hm,” master hums. “You seem to be healing nicely.” He takes his hand away and wipes his finger in a tissue.

Erik sags. His relief is short lived though as there’s a sound of more lube and then something hard and unyielding is pressing at his entrance.

Erik scrambles away, he can’t help it. The memory of pain, feeling like he’s been split in half, is too strong. In the factory, he was always pinned down when he was fucked, unable to escape, and he almost wishes master would restrain him too instead of expecting him to stay still.

“Erik!” master snaps and grabs his leg to keep him from getting away.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, master,” Erik breathes out shakily.

“It’s alright, look!” master’s face softens and he holds out his hand in which he has a slim black butt plug. “It’s the smallest one. It’s not going to hurt you. And if does, I’ll stop. Now come back here.”

Reluctantly, Erik gets back in the position and master puts a steadying hand on his back. “Easy, bear down for me,” master instructs and then pushes the thing in, slowly but relentlessly, all the way up its flared bottom.

“Good boy, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Does it hurt?”

Erik shakes his head miserably. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels weird, foreign and insistently making him feel too full. Already he wants it out.

“Good. I’ll take it out in the evening. You can take it out only if it you need to go to the toilet or if it’s hurting you, are we clear?”

“Yes, master,” Erik grunts, trying not to think about how he’s going to survive it for _the whole day_.

“Get dressed, we’re going to eat some breakfast.”

Erik tries not to limp too much as he walks gingerly down the stairs, hating the way every step jostles the plug inside him. He’s so focused on the weird feeling that he almost walks into master when he takes an unexpected turn left.

“This way,” master steadies him as he stumbles. “We’re eating outside, today.”

Erik can’t hide the excitement when they step into the garden and master heads to a small table in the shade of a pergola. It’s sunny but not too hot yet and Erik is grateful to sink to his knees next to master’s chair, even if the decorative stone tiles are hard and dig into his knees.

It’s Dennis who serves breakfast today and it doesn’t escape Erik that he looks more sour than usual, throwing not-so-subtle glances towards Erik. Oh yeah, Erik probably got him into trouble too for calling master, didn’t he? No wonder he’s pissed. Fuck, what happened to staying on his good side?

He eats the food master hands him down automatically and listlessly, his good mood from being outside evaporating. There’s no way he’s going to be able to hide this time and Dennis will probably corner him the moment master leaves.

“I’ll see you in the evening. Be good. I don’t want any more calls today,” Master warns as he gets ready for work after breakfast, while Erik follows him around like a lost dog.

“Yes, master,” Erik mutters and then watches from the window as master gets into his luxurious car and takes off.

As soon as the roar of the engine fades away, Erik turns around and quietly tiptoes through the house, looking behind every corner not to run into Dennis. He has a new plan; he’ll hide in master’s bedroom. Somehow, he’s pretty sure he’s the only one allowed there.

“Erik! Wait!” Dennis calls after him, appearing out of nowhere, and Erik jumps, cursing internally. He almost made it; the bedroom’s door right there. For a moment, he considers making a run for it and barricading himself inside, but Dennis is already walking toward him in long, purposeful strides, a frown on his face.

He grabs his arm, pulling him closer, his eyes raking him from head to toe.

“Are you alright?” he asks before Erik can get a word out and Erik gapes at him.

“Um,” he says dumbly. “Yeah?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I had to call him. Are you hurt?”

“No, no – I’m fine, really,” Erik stutters out, still dumbfounded.

“I got you something,” Dennis reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little glass bottle with some sort thick paste in it. “It’s for – you know, if you’re ever hurt. It’s really good, so don’t waste it. And maybe hide it somewhere master won’t know?”

“I—thank you,” Erik stares at the bottle, deeply touched by the gesture, and yet weirdly terrified at the prospect of needing it.

“Don’t mention it,” Dennis waves his hand, letting go of Erik’s arm, giving him one last thoughtful look. “And come down for lunch, yeah?”

“I will,” Erik nods, still pretty much in shock as he closes the bedroom door behind him. What the actual fuck. Why the hell is Dennis being nice to him when he’s been nothing but trouble and nuisance? Why does he care if he’s hurt or not?

It doesn’t make sense. Things like this just never happen in Erik’s experience. Masters are to be feared and slaves only care about their own survival, feeding off the weak ones. There must be some ulterior motive to Dennis’ behavior, he decides, he just doesn’t know what it is.

Still, he spends a good hour looking for the best hiding place for the little bottle, finally settling for behind one of the drawers. The bottle is small enough, so the drawer still closes but anyone with a hand larger than Erik’s wouldn’t be able to reach it unless they took the whole thing apart.

When it’s finally lunch time, Erik feels a bit lighter going downstairs into the kitchen. Everyone is there already; while Tracy is busy finishing up at the stove, Dennis and Jerry are at the table.

“Hello,” Erik waves awkwardly at Jerry as he joins them. They haven’t actually been introduced yet but it doesn’t seem like anyone is going to. The boy briefly lifts his eyes from his plate, giving Erik a shy smile that makes his cheeks dimple, before averting his eyes again. Once again, Erik is struck by how pretty he is and can’t help but wonder if he’s maybe master’s previous pleasure slave.

They eat in silence, Jerry hunching and uncomfortable, clearly eager to finish and leave. Erik barely gets through the soup when they hear the clicking of heels in the corridor.

“Mistress’ here,” Dennis says, wiping his mouth hastily. “I’ll go.”

“Thanks,” Jerry says softly, giving Dennis a small grateful smile.

Erik manages to get two more spoons in before Dennis is back, frowning.

“She wants you,” he nods toward Erik.

“What?” Erik looks around himself, alarmed.

“She wants you to serve her food,” Dennis explains impatiently. “Come on, she hates waiting.”

Erik’s heart is beating as he watches Tracy and Dennis load the tray. Besides him, Jerry is quickly barreling out instructions in the soft voice of his and Erik knows he won’t be able to remember half of that.

“Whatever you do, don’t spill anything on her,” Tracy winks and carefully nudges him out of the door.

Erik shuffles the short distance to the dining room excruciatingly slowly while the wine and soup on the tray still slosh dangerously, threatening to spill.

“Mistress,” he greets her when he finally makes it in and balances the tray on the table. He keeps his eyes carefully down but still feels her watch him intently as he serves the food and arranges the cutlery with shaking hands.

Once everything is on the table, he gathers the empty tray and is about to make a hasty retreat.

“That was absolutely terrible,” Mistress says and Erik freezes.

“Mistress?” he asks uncertainly.

“Your pretty face is not enough if you can’t even serve food properly. You touched my cutlery with your bare hands. Seriously? And why is the glass on the left? And look at the mess you made!”

Erik bites the insides of his cheeks hard when she points to a miniature speck of soup that spilled over.

“Take all of this away and try again,” she huffs, annoyed, shooing him away with her hand.

It takes three tries for Erik to finally get it right. By the end, Erik’s sweating profusely and keeping his face neutral and his mouth shut is becoming quite a feat.

“Well, better,” she says finally and Erik lets out a little breath of relief. “Scram! And next time, wipe that look off your face or I’ll tan your hide.”

“Yes, mistress,” Erik grits through his teeth.

Dennis and Jerry are gone by the time Erik finally sits down to finish his now cold meal. Tracy offers to heat it up for him again but he shakes his head. Warms meals are a luxurious novelty he hasn’t gotten used to yet, anyway.

After lunch, Erik heads upstairs, fully intent to sulk the rest of the day away in the relative safety of master’s bedroom, out of everyone’s sight, but comes to a stop when he looks out of a window into the garden.

Leaning on the window sill, he watches Jerry kneeling by a greenhouse, a bag of soil by his side and a stack of planters in front of him. He looks so peaceful—unlike the other times Erik saw him—with a little smile on his face, whistling an upbeat little tune, and for a moment Erik feels a stab of jealousy that he gets to be outside and fiddle with flowers while Erik has to be stay in master’s bedroom with that… _thing_ up his ass.

It’s stupid, though and he shakes his head. He doesn’t have to stay inside, for one thing. Turning on his heel, Erik quickly slips outside and comes closer. Immediately, Jerry stops whistling and some of the tension returns to his shoulders, but he keeps on working.

“Turns out I can’t even serve food right,” Erik says nonchalantly, breaking the tense silence. Jerry snorts through his nose and briefly looks up at Erik.

“Don’t take it too personally,” he says quietly. “She’s like this with everyone. You’ll learn.”

Erik kneels down next to him, hating the way he towers over him.

“So what are you doing?” he asks, not willing to dwell on his stressful encounter with mistress any longer.

“I’m preparing new seedlings for the greenhouse. Look,” Jerry’s face lights up as he shows him the tiny little green leaves barely protruding from the soil but Erik can’t take his eye off him. Looking at him from this close, Erik realizes he was wrong – he must be younger than him by a couple of years at least. His porcelain white skin is flushed from the hot weather and his curls are sticking to his forehead. For a moment, Erik feels a weird urge to run his fingers through them; instead, he averts his eyes and reluctantly looks at the plants. 

“Master got this whole greenhouse for me, isn’t it neat? Last year I had the sweetest tomatoes you’ve ever tasted, you should have seen them!”

The boy’s enthusiasm is catchy and Erik finds himself smiling back. “That’s pretty cool. Can I help?”

At that, Jerry’s face falls. He bites his lips, his eyes flicking nervously toward the house as if master would step out of the door any second. “I, uh… I’m not sure master would approve,” he murmurs quietly.

“What? No, it’s fine! Master never said I couldn’t be outside or help with work.”

“Oh. Okay,” Jerry nods, still unconvinced. “Maybe you can start by filling these with soil?”

They work side by side in silence. Erik is itching to ask all the questions that have been burning on his tongue but he gets a feeling he wouldn’t get much from Jerry and he’d only scary him away. Which would be a shame, because Erik actually enjoys working in this easy silence interrupted by nothing but soft spoken instructions.

The sun beats down relentlessly and soon droplets of sweat run down his back. Jerry doesn’t seem too bothered; he only pulls up his long sleeves a little.

Erik catches a glimpse of his wrists and freezes. Both his delicate bony wrists are covered by mottled white scars as far as Erik can see, disappearing under the dark material of his shirt. It doesn’t take much of Erik’s imagination to guess what those were caused by; a rope most likely or some another type of nasty bindings.

Quickly, Erik averts his eyes but it’s too late. Jerry has noticed and he jerks his sleeves back down, his cheeks turning pink. He jumps up as if he got stung.

“I—I think, uh. That’s enough for today and I have some other work…. Bye!”

Jerry runs off before Erik can say anything and he’s left alone in the garden with nothing but dirt all over his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you guys? How are you enjoying the summer?:)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik gets pampered.

When Erik finishes filling the planters, he gets up and wipes his hands on his pants. He doesn’t know the first thing about gardening and would hate to ruin Jerry’s work.

With nothing else to do and all of the others clearly busy with their respective work somewhere, he slowly drags himself upstairs to master’s bedroom. He needs to take a shower, as dirty and sweaty as he is, but there’s still time to kill before dinner and before master comes home and so he plops on the bed to rest his aching muscles.

The next thing he knows the bedroom door opens and he startles awake. Oh fuck, he fell asleep, didn’t he? He slides down from the bed and down on his knees, quickly rubbing the sleep from his eyes as master steps inside, throwing his jacket over the chair.

“That’s okay, pet, I don’t mind if you take a nap,” he chuckles. “I came home earlier today, anyway. Come here.”

Erik watches master’s amused expression slip away and turn annoyed as he takes a closer look at him, taking in his dirty feet and soiled clothes.

“What is this?” he huffs, taking Erik’s hand to examine it. “Is that dirt under your fingernails?”

“I’m sorry, master. I was, um – working a bit in the greenhouse.”

“Right,” master lets him go with a sigh. “I’m going to have to have a talk with Jerry.”

Erik’s heart sinks. How the hell does he manage to get everyone around here in trouble?

“It was my idea, master,” he says quickly, taking a step closer. “I talked him into letting me help. I’m taking full responsibility. Punish me, not him!”

Immediately he is surprised by his own surge of protectiveness for someone he only just met. Did he really just volunteer himself for a beating? That’s something he would never have done in the sweatshop. Still, he doesn’t back down and holds his head high.

Master lets out a laugh. “That is so very noble of you,” he smiles, cupping Erik’s face, his thumb caressing his cheek. “You don’t get to decide that, though,” he pats his cheek playfully before turning away. “And besides, no one’s getting punished. You’re not allowed to work in the garden from now on, though.”

“But—Master! I’ll wash properly next time, I promise!” Erik pleads, cursing himself internally for stupidly falling asleep.

“You are a pleasure slave, not a worker,” master snaps. “I don’t want your hands all rough and callusy.”

“But—” Erik tries again and master’s look turns downright murderous.

“One more word,” master warns, his voice low and menacing, “and I’ll ground you inside the house for a month.”

Erik bites his tongue until he tastes blood, his heart beating in his chest furiously. He knew it. He fucking knew it that his wanting to be outside in the fresh air is going to be used against him. And it only took one day.

It takes a lot of effort for Erik to unclench his teeth and look away. “Yes, master,” he grinds out, not even trying to hide his anger.

“Good. Now, come here.”

Master grabs him by the back of his neck and presses him down over the bed. Erik stays still, heart beating in fear as master pulls down his pants. He sort of expects him to just yank the toy out, as angry as he was a moment ago, and he braces himself. To his surprise, master gets more lube and then gently works it out of him.

Erik grimaces at the uncomfortable hollow feeling. Fuck, how is taking the thing out worse than putting it in?

He straightens back up when master lets go off him and then gingerly takes the plug master hands to him with a smirk.

“Go wash it in the bathroom and then take a shower,” he orders and Erik hurries to obey, all too happy to get out of his sight.

\--°°--

Gabriel lets out a sigh when the boy disappears into the bathroom and rubs his forehead against the headache already forming behind his eyes.

After the stressful day he had at work, the last thing he needs is to fight with his slave. He knows Erik is probably pissed at him right now but that doesn’t change anything. He won’t have the boy think he can demand anything from Gabriel or argue with him.

At the same time, it’s not like Gabriel doesn’t get it. He does. It must be boring to have nothing to do all day. He wants his slaves to be happy and loyal and giving them something they enjoy, be it a TV or a greenhouse, has always worked out great in his experience. However, it has to happen in Gabriel’s own terms, as a reward and privilege, not something the boy can stamp his feet and get.

The boy looks a bit calmer, even if still sulky, when he comes from the bathroom, glancing at Gabriel uncertainly. Gabriel snaps his finger, pointing to the floor next to him. Erik kneels down and Gabriel runs his finger through his still wet hair.

As he expected, the boy shivers and goosebumps rise all over his skin. Oh, he likes that all right. He’s still tense, though, and Gabriel gives him time to settle, continuing to pet his hair and gently scratch the nape of his neck. After a while, he lets out a shaky breath and relaxes, resting his forehead on Gabriel’s thigh.

“There you go,” Gabriel murmurs. “I know this is hard and all very new to you. But if you’re a good boy for me, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

Erik nods tersely and Gabriel sighs. And he was so looking forward to coming home to tell him the good news. Earlier in the day he got a call from the doctor’s office. Erik’s STI results came in and he is clean but Gabriel’s not going to mention it now that the boy is still sour with him.

“Okay,” Gabriel gets up, tugging the boy with him. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

\--°°--

Erik’s heart is pounding in excitement as master leads him out of the mansion’s main door to his sleek sports car.

“Come on, get in,” he orders when Erik just stares at it in bewilderment.

Quickly, he obeys, sinking into the leather seat. Master walks around the car and gets behind the wheel. He doesn’t start the engine right away, though, but turns to Erik.

“First off,” he says and leans in Erik’s space, making him flinch. “Buckle up,” master smiles as he gets the belt and fastens it for him. “And second,” he takes hold Erik’s chin, holding him still. “I want you on your best behavior. You look absolutely gorgeous and people are going to stare, so don’t embarrass me. Are we clear?”

Erik fidgets with the cuff of the shirt master brought for him to wear. It’s a simple black button-down but the material feels soft and luxurious and he’s pretty sure the little logo on its chest means it cost a fortunate. Master unfastened the top two buttons so that his black collar is clearly on display.

“Um, master? How—I mean, what exactly am I supposed to do?” he asks nervously. He doesn’t want to fuck up his chance to get out of the house but he’s pretty sure there’s etiquette for everything. He thinks back to his serving fail and his palms start to sweat.

“You just do what I tell you to. No glaring, no talking back and you’ll be fine, we’re just going to a mall,” master waves his hand easily and starts the car. Erik does not feel reassured in the slightest but pushes his worry to the back of his mind, giddy with excitement as they speed down the road that twists and turn along the coast.

Not thirty minutes later they reach a town and they stop in front of some sort of historical building. Master gets out of the car and Erik hurries to follow.

“Don’t scratch her,” master warns as he throws the keys to a slave in uniform waiting on the curb and they head inside.

The mall is not like any shopping center Erik has ever seen. There’s a thick plush _carpet_ on the floor for fuck’s sake and a real waterfall in the center, right next to a wide marble staircase. All the shops look like small boutiques with no price tags visible on any of the stuff displayed.

Erik was worried he might get lost in the crowds but there are only a few people milling around, all dressed up impeccably. Master walks swiftly through the promenade like he owns the place and Erik falls a step behind, not letting his eyes wander from master’s shoes, as much as he would love to gawk.

They stop in front of a door a moment later and master rings the bell.

“Mr. Powell, sir,” a woman greets him warmly with a smile. She looks like she might be in her fifties, with a perfect hairdo and perfect make up and perfectly manicured nails. Everything about her sets Erik’s teeth on edge. “We did not expect you quite so soon.”

“I’m not here for myself today,” master smiles and steps aside, pushing Erik in front of him.

“Aw,” the woman coos and Erik struggles to keep his face blank. _No glaring,_ he reminds himself and takes a calming breath. “You want the full service?”

“Yeah. I’ll pick him up in an hour.”

“Of course, sir.”

With a hand on his shoulder, the woman leads him inside, closing the door behind them, and Erik has no choice than to follow. Immediately his heart picks up and he misses his master’s reassuring presence, as much as he hates himself for it.

Erik swallows when he sees the large white leather chair with supports for his arms and legs but makes himself climb on it when the woman nudges him toward it. There’s another woman in the room, giving him a curious look.

“He’s one of Powell’s,” the first woman says. “He wants the full service.”

Erik grips the arm supports in a death grip when the woman takes some sort of a buzzing tool and takes his bare foot in her other hand.

It… doesn’t hurt. It actually feels kinda pleasant, warm and tickly, and he watches her work in fascination. He still flinches when the other woman takes his hand but makes himself go limp and allows her to handle him.

They are both gentle and professional. They completely ignore Erik, keeping an easy chatter between them as the file, polish and whatever else they’re doing to his nails and Erik finds himself relaxing, sinking into the surprisingly comfortable chair.

When they finish, the clock on the wall shows there’s still 15 minutes left before master is to pick him up. Erik fully expects to be put somewhere to wait for him but instead they pour some scented oil on their hands and start to massage his hands and feet and _fuck_ , does that feels good.

When maser finally comes, Erik feels like he’s been turned into goo, as relaxed as he is.

“Beautiful,” master praises admiringly, taking Erik’s hands in his, and Erik feels his face turn warm. Master says his goodbye to the women and they leave, without paying, Erik’s realizes in surprise.

The next stop is not far; it’s a small boutique and man’s face lights up when they enter.

“Gabriel!” he greets with a weirdly overexaggerated accent pressing a loud smack on master’s cheek. “What can I do for you today?”

“He needs a new wardrobe. From head to toe, something casual, something formal –oh, you know the drill,” master waves his hand and makes himself comfortable in an arm chair, pulling out his phone.

For the next hour, he’s basically a living, breathing mannequin. The man takes his measures and then piles items of clothing on the counter, sometimes making him try them, something just holding them next to him.

Master barely intervenes, mostly just typing on his phone. Sometimes he comments things like “I liked the green one better” or “Definitely needs something more tight-fitting,” but that’s it.

Luckily, most of the stuff looks pretty normal, simple shirts and pants and button-downs and even a jacket and Erik zones out for a good part of the fitting. It still seems to take forever and by the time they finally leave, Erik is pretty exhausted.

Just as he’s wondering how many stops they still have to make, master leads them to a small café by the waterfall. There are strategically placed pillows on the ground by every table and Erik sinks to his knees when master points his fingers to one of them.

There’s another slave a few tables over. A pretty young boy, kneeling between his master thighs, eating bits of sandwich from his master’s hands. Their eyes meet for a brief moment but Erik quickly looks away, surprised by the hostility in the other boy’s glare.

Master only gets a coffee and Erik’s glad, even though he’s getting kind of hungry. Still he really doesn’t want to get fed from master’s hand in public and so he just waits patiently for master to finish.

He startles when master reaches down a moment later. In his hand he’s holding something and Erik glances up uncertainly.

“Take it,” master says softly. “It’s for you, eat it.”

Erik takes it gingerly and his heart skips a beat when he realizes it’s a little piece of chocolate wrapped in a fancy gold paper. Erik hasn’t eaten anything sweet for years. Even before he became a slave, candies were a luxury he only got to taste a few times in his life.

Erik wants to save it, hide it somewhere and then savor it or maybe keep it for when he needs it more than right now. Master’s looking at him expectantly, though, and so he undoes the wrapper and puts the little square of chocolate in his mouth before it can melt on his fingers.

He can’t help the little sound that escapes him as rich, smooth sweetness explodes on his tongue. Above him, master chuckles at his reaction and goes back to drinking his coffee. Erik keeps the chocolate in his mouth as long as he can and then licks his teeth, tracing the last bits of sweetness.

“Thank you, master,” he says softly and master ruffles his hair.

“Oh, you’re welcome, sweetheart. Come on, now. Just one more thing and then we’re done.”

The next place Erik recognizes immediately and he can’t help but look up at master with wide eyes. Master doesn’t acknowledge him, though, only pushes him towards one of the chairs in front of a mirror while he talks to the hairdresser.

Erik bites his lip nervously as he waits. He’s had long hair ever since he can remember and it feels as if it has become a part of who he is. He desperately doesn’t want to part with it but at the same time he knows with stone-cold certainty there is not a single thing he can do about it. Whatever master has planned for him will happen.

Resigned, he closes his eyes. Someone comes and starts washing his hair. Some sort of balm is massaged into his hair and then he is left waiting ridiculously long. He’s half sure they forgot about him but when he glances back, master is still sitting there, looking unperturbed, once again typing on his phone.

Finally, the same guy comes to rinse the thing off and then meticulously dry blows and flat irons his hair, strand by strand, and Erik is going out of his mind with boredom by the end of it.

He all but jumps out of the chair when they’re done, happy to leave with a bag of different hair products and his hair intact.

It’s already dark when they step outside. Erik’s probably more exhausted than he has any right to be, considering he’s done nothing but stay still for most of the afternoon. He runs his neatly manicured fingers through his hair, still surprised by how incredibly soft and flowy it feels.

He’s like a pampered pet, he thinks sourly. At the same time, he can’t really summon the resentment he knows he should feel. He’s not hurting, he’s not hungry or cold or thirsty. He’s slept more in the past few days than he has in months. Is it such a bad thing to enjoy the respite and luxuries while they last?

Erik is grateful to be back in the car. Master pats his thigh and Erik gives him a little smile as he starts the car and they set off back towards the mansion.


	7. Chapter 7

Gabriel sits on the bed, looking the boy up and down as he fidgets nervously in front of him. He looks nice, even prettier than before with his hair shiny and smooth and his nails perfectly trimmed. There’s so much more Gabriel would like to have Erik do – waxing, probably, maybe a tattoo. Or a piercing. Now wouldn’t that look nice on him.

“Strip,” he orders and Erik tenses, warily eyeing the cuffs Gabriel’s holding. When he doesn’t move right away, Gabriel raises his eyebrow questioningly.

“You need me to help you?” he asks darkly and finally Erik’s hands go to his buttons but not before giving Gabriel what is probably supposed to be a defiant look, though Gabriel can clearly see the boy’s fear behind it. Oh, he knows what’s coming, alright.

“On the bed. Lie on your back.”

Gabriel secures Erik’s hands to the bed’s metal frame with the black leather cuffs and then straddles his thighs. It’s quite a sight, having the boy at his mercy like this. With his arms stretched above his head, his skinny chest is arched slightly and Gabriel can’t help but run his hands over his torso, pinching his nipples hard.

Erik writhes uselessly and Gabriel leans down to take his mouth in a claiming kiss. Erik lets out a little sound of surprise but eventual parts his lips and kisses back. He’s clumsy and clearly inexperienced but Gabriel doesn’t mind.

Erik’s lips are red and puffy by the time Gabriel moves down, sucking bruises into the boy’s collar bone, and he lets out a broken moan. Gabriel’s delighted to see the boy’s dick is hard, twitching against his belly, and he gives it a few quick strokes.

“No coming,” Gabriel warns when the boy seems to get dangerously close and clasps his hand hard around the base of his dick, eliciting a groan from him. “Not until I’m inside you.”

Immediately, tension returns to his body and Gabriel sighs. He would have loved if the boy didn’t have any experience with sex rather than this; after the years in the factory all he seems to associate with getting fucked is pain. And it sucks as Gabriel sees absolutely no appeal in fucking a terrified, crying slave.

Luckily, with how responsive he is, Gabriel is pretty sure he can show the boy otherwise.

Reaching for lube, he slicks his finger and gently works it inside Erik. There’s not much resistance as he’s still a bit loose from wearing the plug and Gabriel takes his time working him open, adding a second finger eventually.

Erik grabs onto the headboard, panting, eyes clenched. He’s bracing himself for the pain, getting ready to endure, Gabriel realizes bitterly.

With his other hand, Gabriel keeps stroking Erik’s flagging erection to distract him. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Gabriel assures him softly but the boy doesn’t probably even hear him over his panic. That won’t do at all.

Gabriel grabs a small decorative pillow and puts it under the small of his back. He takes hold of the boy’s hip, holding him firmly in place and twirls his tongue around the boy’s hole.

At that, Erik’s eyes snap open and he lifts his head, looking at Gabriel with such an utter shock that it’s almost comical.

“What the… fuck! Master!” he tries to squirm away but Gabriel has not problem holding him in place as he relentlessly eats him out.

“Master, please!” Erik keens. “Oh my god, I can’t…! Just—fuck me already!” he grits out.

Finally, he takes mercy on the boy and stops. Erik sags, panting, his eyes blown wide, and he tenses only slightly when Gabriel aligns himself and starts to push in. Once he bottoms out, he pauses, giving the boy time to adjust.

He feels heavenly and Gabriel soon loses his inhibition as he starts to fuck him in earnest in hard, long thrust. He keeps jerking the boy and it doesn’t take long before he’s coming with a cry, painting streaks of pearly cum all over his stomach.

Gabriel follows soon after, barely holding himself up as pleasure wrecks through. Panting, he collapses next to the boy, chuckling at how deliciously disheveled, yet uncomprehending he looks.

He undoes the cuffs and Erik curls on his side, looking at Gabriel, uncertain and strangely vulnerable

“Come here,” Gabriel opens his arms and after a beat of hesitation, Erik snuggles close, burying his face in Gabriel’s chest. “There’s a good boy,” Gabriel murmurs, enjoying the way it makes Erik shiver. He bets no one told him that before. Well, their loss.

“Come on, pet, let’s take a shower,” Gabriel says when his breath finally slows down and Erik grunts reluctantly.

“Sleepy,” he murmurs and Gabriel smacks his ass.

“Up!” he orders. In the end he has to all but carry the boy to the shower, where he leans against the tiled wall, head down, swaying a little. He’s uncharacteristically silent and pliant the entire time and Gabriel quickly scrubs them both clean, eager to be back in bed.

Pulling the top soiled cover down, Gabriel slips under the covers and spoons Erik from behind, sighing as he takes a lungful of his scent.

“My beautiful boy,” he mumbles, satisfied, before falling asleep.

\--°°--

The next day, Erik wakes up alone in the bed, with master already gone. He groans when he looks at the clock. He needs to ask for a fucking alarm clock.

He stretches and winces at the ache in his ass. Yesterday was so fucking weird. He refuses to think about it because if he admits it to himself that last night was the hardest he ever came in his life, his brain will probably short circuit or something.

The memory of the warm fuzzy feeling he felt last night curled up in master’s arms, safe and content, now turns his stomach. What the fuck is wrong with him?

Pushing the dark thoughts away, he slowly makes his way downstairs. Unsurprisingly, there’s no one in the kitchen, as late as he is, but when peeks inside the fridge, there’s a plate wrapped in stretch film with a little note pinned to it that says _Breakfast for Erik_.

He knows Tracy’s just following orders from master but he still feels weirdly touched as he heats up the eggs and bacon and eats it alone at the small table.

Afterwards, Erik wanders aimlessly around the house. He even pays a visit to the slaves’ quarters, looking around what Dennis called the ‘rec’ room. There are shelves with books and Erik studies the names, running his fingers over the dusty spines. They all look like trashy romance novels and Erik rolls his eyes. Who the hell even reads these?

He doesn’t feel like figuring out the TV and there’s nothing more of interest, so he heads back upstairs. In the kitchen he bumps into Dennis who’s sitting at the breakfast table, frowning at a tablet in his hand. He’s writing what looks like an email but stops when he notices Erik and puts the device away, screen down.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a hint of worry in his voice and Erik fidgets.

“I was just wondering, if I were to—say—ask you for something, would have to report it to master? You know, just hypothetically speaking.”

Dennis sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That depends on what you would ask for and whether I thought master needs to know about it. Hypothetically speaking,” he smirks.

“Oh,” Erik worries his lip between his teeth, considering. “Can—can I have some paper? And a pencil?” he chances eventually.

Dennis narrows his eyes as he looks at him over the rim of his reading glasses. “What do you need it for?”

“Nothing,” Erik shrugs uneasily.

“Well then you don’t really need it, do you?”

“Dennis,” Erik whines pleadingly. “Please?”

“Do you need to contact someone?” Dennis lowers his voice and leans closer.

“What? No—” Erik gapes.

“—Because if you do, there are other, better ways,” he whispers and Erik shakes his head.

“That’s—No! Thank you, really, but no. I don’t have anyone back home,” Erik says, thinking about his mother, who died when he was just a kid. He only remembers her as a plain woman from the pictures on the walls. He had no siblings or lovers, either. And his father… well. Secretly he hopes the man has drunk himself to death already.

“I only wanted to draw,” he admits reluctantly, his ears burning hot.

Drawing has always been a passion of his, ever since he can remember. And then, in the factory, it was the only way for him to escape in his head, at least for a while. He drew the familiar sceneries with woods and hills as far as the eye could see to preserve the memories of looking out of the window of his childhood home, as well as random slaves, with their hollow faces and dead eyes. The notepad and pen he managed to trade from one of the slaves that got to go the market and he paid a harsh price for them.

And now they were left behind in the factory, behind a lose brick, together with his favorite drawings.

Dennis gets up from the table with a soft sigh and leaves. A moment later he’s back with a simple spiral graph notebook and a pencil.

“This is the best I can do I’m afraid,” Dennis hands it to him with an apologetic smile and Erik snatches it, holding it close to his chest.

“That’s perfect, thank you,” he murmurs and then adds, reluctantly: “I owe you.” He hates accepting favors, especially not knowing what the price will be, but this is worth it.

“You know you can ask master for things like these, right? I’m sure he’d get you something better.”

Erik shakes his head vigorously. Like hell is he going to give master another thing to take away the moment he displeases him. No, he won’t let that happen. He’ll hide his supplies somewhere no one will ever find.

“You… you won’t tell master, right?” Erik asks tentatively as he’s about to leave.

Dennis shakes his head sadly and Erik murmurs a quiet “thank you” before running off. He finds a quiet corner in the garden in the shadow of one of the large trees and props the notepad on his knees.

It’s nerve-wracking, making the first line, but once he starts, he can’t stop. He draws the trees and exotic flowers, unlike anything they had back home, but soon bores of those. He starts to doodle, letting his hand run free, and soon master’s face starts to emerge on the page with his stupidly handsome strong jawline and intense eyes.

Grimacing, he tears the page away, crumpling it and stuffing it in his pocket. A moment later he hears Jerry enter the garden and head to the greenhouse. Erik shuffles a bit to be hidden out of sight by a bush and starts a new sketch, this time of Jerry’s slim form, dressed in a long-sleeved t-shirt and long pants even in the hot sun, looking peaceful with pots and bags of soil scattered all around him.

He has two pages worth of sketches of Jerry by the time the boy gets up and stretches his back. Slowly he heads back inside and then hesitates and walks towards where Erik is hiding instead. Quickly, Erik closes the notebook and slides it under the thick thorny bush.

“Hi,” Erik greets him and Jerry gives him a small smile in return. He sits on the grass next to him and pulls his sleeves down all the way over his fingers, fidgeting with the frayed ends.

“Sorry, I’m no longer allowed to help you out,” Erik says bitterly, still unable to sound nonchalant about it

“Yeah, I’ve heard, master told me,” Jerry cringes. “I mean, everyone’s got instructions you’re not allowed to help with the chores.”

“This is bullshit,” Erik huffs and Jerry looks at around himself, alarmed, and then at Erik.

“Look, it’s… good here. Just do whatever he says,” he whispers pleadingly. “Whatever he wants, just give it to him. It could be worse. Much, _much_ worse.”

Erik’s heart aches for the boy and he sighs. “I know,” he says softly.

“Right,” Jerry smiles sheepishly, looking embarrassed. “Of course.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence and then Jerry gets up, dusting his pants. Erik desperately wants to say something to make him stay, so as not to be left alone again, but the boy is gone before Erik can make his mouth work.

Feeling weirdly exhausted even though he just got up, he drags himself back to the bedroom where he spends good thirty minutes looking for the best place to hide his notebook. By the time he plops onto the bed, his head is throbbing somewhat terribly and he’s grateful when he feels himself slipping into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter update this time. Important info - I'm leaving for a vacation this weekend so there won't be any more updates this or the next week. Don't worry, I'll be back as soon as I can, thank you all for reading :-*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what, I lied:-D Here's another chapter with some aggressive care-taking because that's my jam :) And now I'm really off to my vacation, bye!

Erik has no idea how long he’s slept, all he knows is that when he wakes up, he feels like shit. His head feels like it’s going to split in two, his nose is stuffy and everything hurts. His shirt is sweated through and he starts to shiver even as he feels himself burn up.

 _Oh fuck._ He sits up quickly, fear squeezing his heart painfully, and almost topples over as his head swims. Tears spring into his eyes and he struggles to push down the panic. He desperately doesn’t want to go isolation and yet he knows there is absolutely no way around it.

He looks around himself and the world shifts. Oh right. He’s not in the factory anymore. Why does he keep forgetting that?

The realization does make him feel a bit lighter and he lets out a shaky breath. In the sweatshop, illnesses spread like wildfire and master Renard never took any chances. As soon as anyone showed even the slightest symptoms, they were locked in the isolation room down in the basement. Though, calling it a room was probably a bit too generous. It was a windowless hole that smelled like death and piss, where the slave had to stay with nothing but a bucket until they got better. Or died, whichever came first. There was a tap with water and a stack of dry biscuits so that no one else had to come in contact with the sick slave. It was a brutally effective solution and master Renard was very proud of it – he never had to close the whole production down, not once.

As scary as it was, going to the isolation was a good thing. It meant master Renard still counted on them getting better. If a slave was deemed too sick, a man in a white coat would come and take them away. To an infirmary, master had said. Erik’s not sure what that means but none of them ever came back.

His relief is short-lived, though, as he realizes he has no idea what the protocol in his new home is. It must be something similar though; after all, who would run master’s house if Erik managed to get everyone sick?

His body protests but he makes himself get up from the bed. He quickly pulls down all sheets and bundles them in a pile. Not sure what to do with them, he just leaves them on the floor by the wall, hoping Dennis or Tracy will take care of them.

He feels like he’s swimming in syrup but he still manages to wipe the door handles and anything else he can think of that he might have touched.

There’s not much else he can do and so he leaves the bedroom and slowly makes his way downstairs. He has to pause every few steps, feeling like he’s going to pass out, or puke. Or both.

He’s never been so glad to run into Dennis, sitting once again in the kitchen over a pile of letters.

“Dennis,” Erik croaks out, leaning on the door frame. “I-uh. I think I’m sick.”

Dennis’ eyes shoot up, eyebrows knitting in worry immediately.

“What’s wrong, do you have a fever?”

“Probably, yeah. Just, can you show me where to go?”

“What do you mean?” Dennis asks, confused. The letters he was reading forgotten, he gets up, taking a step closer.

“Where do the sick slaves go,” Erik mumbles. Speaking hurts, why the hell can’t Dennis just take him somewhere he can lie down already.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let me have a look you.” He comes at Erik, his hand outstretched, and Erik scrambles back in panic.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” he yells. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Alright,” Dennis pursues his lips, letting his hand fall down. “I’m going to call master.”

“What? No! No, please. Please, I’m sorry, okay? Please don’t call him. I just need you to find me somewhere I can stay while I’m sick, that’s all. I swear I won’t come out of there, you don’t even have to lock me up!”

“Okay,” Dennis says gently, as if speaking to a child. “Come with me,” he says finally and Erik could weep with gratitude. He leads him the short way down to the slave quarters and points him to the same room as before.

“Isn’t that Jerry’s room?” he asks uncertainly.

“Don’t worry about Jerry,” Dennis waves his hand impatiently. “Go lie down.”

Erik obeys, happy to collapse on the soft mattress. This is such an improvement to the hard concrete floor in the factory, it doesn’t even compare.

“Do you need anything else?” Dennis asks and Erik forces himself to keep his eyes open.

“A bucket?” he tries and Dennis just nods. He’s back a moment later, setting a simple plastic bucket on the floor.

“Get some rest,” he says and then closes the door behind him. There’s no lock, Erik notices, but it’s fine. He meant it when he said he won’t come out. Looking around, he doesn’t see any food but there’s a large plastic bottle of water. He’s going to have to ration it, but it will do. Who knows, maybe they’ll even bring him some more if he doesn’t get better soon, though he doesn’t want to count on it.

Feeling like he’s done all he could, he finally closes his eyes and lets the fever pull him down to sleep.

\--°°--

Gabriel is in the middle of a conference call when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He curses to himself when he sees Dennis’ number. He was just about to finalize the deal on the delivery a new security system for the whole town hall but he still excuses himself, not daring not to pick it up.

“Don’t tell me you can’t find him again,” Gabriel growls.

“Master, no, that’s not—It’s just, Erik’s sick.”

His anger is immediately replaced with worry. “How sick?”

“I’m not sure, master. He wouldn’t let me touch him.”

“What do you mean, wouldn’t _let_ you. Since when do you need a permission to touch him? Who’s in charge there, you or him?”

“I—I’m sorry, master…”

“Forget it,” Gabriel huffs impatiently. “I’ll be home in thirty minutes.”

He makes a quick call to Dr. Myers before returning to the conference call. It takes a bit of yelling and threatening to have his license revoked when he has the audacity to suggest he only keep an eye on the slave and have him rest and drink plenty of fluids but eventually the good doctor agrees to make a house call and be at the mansion in 20 minutes.

His car is already parked in the driveway when Gabriel makes it home half an hour later. He gives Gabriel a polite nod that Gabriel can tell is completely forced but he doesn’t care. There’s not much thought left in his head other than to make sure the boy is alright.

Distantly he wonders if he’s gotten too attached to the boy already. He’s done without his own personal pleasure slave his whole life, only having some fun here and there with slaves when the opportunity presented itself. He never felt his sex life was lacking; after all, he had no problem bringing home a willing partner to play with for the night.

If he was being completely honest with himself though, none of the one-night stands compared to having someone—someone as gorgeous as Erik on top of that—at his complete mercy. No boring limit negotiations, no safewords, no having to hold himself back.

He just never imagined it would come with such a surge of protectiveness, too.

“Where is he?” Gabriel snaps at Dennis, who’s waiting for him by the door.

“In the slave quarters, master.”

As Gabriel quickly strides through the house, the doctor on his heels, he notices Jerry not-so-subtly hovering nearby, trying to look busy, but Gabriel lets him be.

Erik startles awake when Gabriel barrels in. He looks like death warmed over; his skin is a sickly shade of green and sweaty strands of hair are sticking to his face. He blinks blearily at Gabriel for a while, eyes flicking between him and the doctor. The next moment, his eyes grow wide in fear and he hides under the blanket.

“Erik,” Gabriel orders sternly. “Stop that!”

Erik only whines fearfully and holds the blanket closer, as if it could somehow protect him.

Behind him, the doctor heaves a soft sigh and Gabriel glares at him over his shoulder.

Gabriel takes the blanket and yanks it off; Erik fights him like a cat, kicking and grabbing desperately at the cover with feverish, uncoordinated movements, but of course he stands no chance.

“Master, please, let me stay here, I’ll be good. I don’t wanna go, please!”

“Hush, you’re not going anywhere, what are talking about? Stay still so that the doctor can take a look at you.”

Gabriel’s words don’t seem to reach Erik in all his panic and he still fights for the blanket as if that piece of fabric decided his life or death.

“Stop it!” Gabriel snaps, his patience running thin, his temper rising at being disobeyed in front of the doctor. He tugs his tie loose from around his neck and makes a quick work of securing the boy’s hands above his head to the headrest. He then sits on his legs, practically immobilizing, and nods for the doctor to approach.

Erik soon gives up his thrashing, seeing how useless it is. He finally goes still, his chest heaving, as silent tears roll from the corners of his eyes.

The doctor is quick and efficient at least and he steps away as soon as he finishes his examination. “It's just a flu, as I suspected,” he grumbles. “His immune system is going to be pretty weak, that’s to be expected after spending the last four years locked up.”

Gabriel feels a stab of guilt. He probably shouldn’t have taken him to the mall just yet.

“Just keep the fever down and get him to rest. And call me if he gets worse. Here,” he hands Gabriel a packet of Tylenol. Taking one pill out, Gabriel snaps his finger at Dennis hovering in the doorway, who ducks out quickly and is back immediately with a glass of water.

Supporting his head up, Gabriel holds the pill out but Erik just pursues his lips, shaking his head desperately.

“Take it or I’ll have you hooked up to an IV,” Gabriel orders, grabbing a fistful of his sweaty hair, more than done with arguing with the boy. With a broken sob, the boy opens his mouth. Gabriel puts the pill on his tongue and holds the glass to his lips until he finishes it all.

“There’s a good boy,” Gabriel finally feels some of the anger and tension leaving him and he gently strokes the boy’s cheek. “You’re alright. Dennis, make up the couch in my office,” he orders as he undoes the tie, struggling with the knot tightened from Erik’s pulling.

He cradles the boy to his chest, blanket and all, and heads upstairs. The soft padding of steps running away tells him Jerry was eavesdropping by the door and he smiles to himself.

The couch in his office is large enough for Erik to lie comfortably and Gabriel deposits him on it gently. He sits next to him for a long time, soothingly running his fingers through his hair, until the drug finally gets the fever down and Erik falls into an exhausted sleep.

Gabriel stays at home the entire week, only working from his office with Erik on his couch so that he can always keep an eye on him.

For the first three days it’s easy as he sleeps all the time. He only wakes to go the toilet, drink tea and slurp the soup Tracy brings him from the kitchen with unsteady hands.

On the fourth day, he sits up on the couch just an hour after Gabriel started working.

“Master?”

“Hm?” Gabriel raises his eyebrows at him over his screen. “What is it?”

“I, uh—” he twirls a strand of hair around his finger, fidgeting nervously. “Thank you. For—not sending me away,” he says quietly and warmth swells in Gabriel’s chest at hearing the boy’s gratitude.

“Of course. I never would,” he says resolutely.

Erik nods solemnly. “I feel better now.”

“That’s good,” Gabriel smiles at him.

At that, Erik gets up and heads for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gabriel snaps and the boy startles.

“I—I thought—”

“Back on the couch!” Gabriel orders.

“Yes, master,” Erik mutters but Gabriel doesn’t miss the small smile and a content sigh as he buries himself back under the blanket.

Two more days later, Erik is back to full health. Gabriel’s writing an email but it’s getting hard to focus with all the huffing and tossing coming from the couch.

“Erik,” Gabriel warns and the boy stills for one minute before going back to sighing dramatically.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Gabriel rolls his eyes and takes a tablet from his drawer. He brings it over to the couch, dropping it in Erik’s lap. “There are some games, but mute the sounds.”

The device keeps the boy occupied at least until he finishes his email, but way too soon it ends up discarded on the floor.

“I’m bored, master,” Erik groans theatrically, giving Gabriel a pouty face.

“Do I need to find something for you to do?” Gabriel smirks and suddenly Erik seems to backtrack.

“No, master,” he says softly and lies back down, turning his back to Gabriel.

“Too late,” Gabriel chuckles. “Come here.”

Reluctantly, the boy comes closer, nervously biting his lip as he watches Gabriel rummage through his drawers. All his favorite bindings are in the bedroom but at least he finds a tape that will do.

“Hands behind your back,” he orders and Erik hesitantly obeys. Once his hands are bound, Gabriel takes his chin in his hand, giving him a good look-over. The boy looks fine; the color is back to his cheeks and his eyes are bright, if a bit wide. He looks a little tired, with the dark circles still under his eyes, but that’s not that surprising.

As eager as he is to play with him, Gabriel would hate to overdo it. Erik seems well enough for something simple, though.

Taking a hold of his arm, he guides him to kneel under the table and then sits back down in his chair. As soon as Gabriel undoes his pants, Erik seems to get the hint and shuffles closer, taking Gabriel’s cock in his mouth. Immediately he starts to suck but Gabriel grabs his hair to stop him.

“No,” he says mildly and Erik looks up at him in confusion. “Don’t get me off. Just like this, yeah,” he murmurs when Erik goes still, only holding Gabriel in his mouth, not looking any less confused.

Gabriel takes a moment to enjoy the view, Erik’s plump lips around Gabriel’s dick, his blue eyes looking at him through his long thick eyelashes. His warm wet mouth feels heavenly and Gabriel hardens despite himself. Erik swallows awkwardly but doesn’t move.

As much as he could spend the whole morning just watching the boy, Gabriel makes himself focus back on his work and opens another email, immersing himself in the task at hand. It’s a long hour later that Gabriel finally turns his computer off and stretches his neck.

Below the desk, Erik is still warming his dick, though by now his squirming uncomfortably, the muscles in his shoulder twitching uselessly.

“Alright,” Gabriel leans back in his chair with a sigh. “You can suck me off now.”

Erik gets to work, eager enough to make Gabriel come as soon as possible. Gabriel doesn’t try to hold out and soon he comes down the boy’s throat with a satisfied moan. Once Erik swallows the last drop of Gabriel’s cum, he nuzzles his head against Gabriel’s thigh, panting, and Gabriel rewards him by scratching his scalp gently, knowing how much the boy loves that.

“I think you really are all healthy again, aren’t you? Go outside or something. I’ll see at lunch.”

“Yes, master,” Erik gets up gingerly. Gabriel cuts the tape away and the boy slinks out of the room, subtly adjusting his pants to hide his own hard-on.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik hangs out with Jerry and Gabriel has some fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I updated tags again. 
> 
> Also, hello everyone, I'm back. I had this chapter mostly written so I'm able to post even though I came back home yesterday. I had a great time and a lot of time to think. I have so many ideas for this story, I can't wait to get to them:)

The next day, master finally goes back to work and it feels weirdly liberating to be out of his sight after spending the last week coped up on his couch under constant supervision.

He heads straight to the garden, his notebook hidden under his shirt, to enjoy some quiet. Only his ears are immediately assaulted by the annoying roar of some kinds of grass mower.

Following the sound, he finds Jerry by the live fence, struggling to cut the thick bushes with a heavy looking bush cutter. Erik watches him for a while; the boy waves the tool clumsily, futilely trying to reach the tops parts as he doesn’t have enough strength to lift the cutter.

“Alright, gimme that,” Erik sighs. Even weak as he still is after the flu, he’s pretty sure his hard-earned muscles from the four years in the factory didn’t go away that fast.

“What? No!” Jerry turns the cutter off and hides it behind his back, looking at Erik as if he’s grown a second head.

“It’s fine, master’s not home. I won’t get myself dirty this time, he won’t find out.”

“Erik, please,” Jerry begs, his eyes wide with fear. “You know I’m not allowed to let you help. It’s my ass on the line, too, you know?”

“You’re right,” Erik deflates all at once. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid idea,” he mutters. The last thing he wants is to get Jerry into trouble.

“Thank you,” Jerry sighs, his shoulders sagging. “And besides,” he lowers his voices. “Mistress is home.”

“She is?” Erik asks, glancing towards the house. “Doesn’t she, like, have a job?”

“She’s an artist. She has whole studio in the house,” Jerry answers, turning back to the overgrown bush.

“Really?” Erik perks up. “That’s pretty cool.”

“No, it really is not. Trust me,” Jerry grimaces and Erik’s curiosity only increases. Before he can ask any more questions, Jerry turns the bush cutter back on, a clear sign the conversation is over. Erik huffs and stuff his hands in his pocket and stalks back inside the house.

He draws for a while but finds it’s not nearly as much fun when he’s closed in the boring, sterile bedroom and so he hides the notebook back to its place and plops on the bed.

A few hours later, the buzzing of the cutter still goes on and Erik leans out of the window. It’s hot, as it always is around here, the sun almost at its peak. Jerry is nowhere near done, with only about half of the fence neat with not twigs sticking out, and Erik can see even from his vantage point how flushed he is. No wonder too, wearing the long pants and long sleeves.

It gives Erik an idea and he quietly runs down the stairs, his bare feet barely making any sound on the cool marble. He’s in luck, as there’s no one in the kitchen and he quickly stuffs his pockets and heads to the garden.

“You need to take a break,” Erik says resolutely and takes Jerry’s arm to lead him away. The boy barely has time to turn off and put down the cutter before he’s dragged deeper into the garden in a corner closed off from view by thick high flower bushes. It’s no a bad hiding spot, Erik found, though they still would be visible from one part of the house.

“What are you doing?” Jerry asks, frowning. He takes a step back from Erik until his back hits the wall behind him and there’s no denying the fear in his eyes as he glances around himself when he realizes Erik is blocking his only way out.

Erik’s stomach sinks guiltily and he quickly pulls the two cans of soda from his pockets and sits on the grass.

“I just thought you could use some refreshment,” he smiles, offering one drink to Jerry.

Jerry breathes through his nose, equal parts relieved and exasperated.

“We are not allowed to drink soda,” he whispers, looking at the offered can in horror.

“Screw that,” Erik shrugs. “You think they count every can?”

“Probably, yeah!”

“Oh, come on! I’ll say I drank both of them if it comes to it, I promise. _I was feeling so weak from the flu, it made me crave sugar_ ,” Erik puts on his best innocent face and puppy eyes and Jerry giggles. Finally, he takes the can and sits next to Erik, hugging his knees close to his chest.

“You’re good,” he says as he takes a sip. “Though I feel like you’re a bad influence on me.”

Erik snorts. “Nonsense. And anyway, you were going to get a heat stroke, working in the sun like that.”

“It’s not that bad. You get used to it.”

“Aren’t you from the north, too? You look like it.” Jerry’s fair skin and blonde, almost white hair and blue eyes definitely hinted a more northern origin.

“Maybe my mother was,” Jerry smiles sadly. “I don’t know. I was born around here, though.”

The mood seems to change, with Jerry suddenly deep in thought, following the condensation on the can with his finger. It’s a never a good idea to ask a slave about their parents. Most are born slaves, separated from their mothers at young age. The pain never quite goes away.

“I wish I at least had a rubber band,” he says in an attempt to change the topic, lifting his long hair, warm and heavy, from his sweaty neck.

“Oh, but I do,” Jerry lightens up and quickly runs off to the greenhouse. He comes back with a whole bag of small ugly brown bands. Erik can tell immediately that these are going to rip his hair out but still gives Jerry a grateful smile.

“May I?” Jerry asks, gesturing to Erik’s hair and Erik shrugs. Jerry kneels behind him and starts to braid small strands of hair into braids, connecting them in the back, creating some sort of complicated hairdo. It’s nice though; it lifts some of the weight from his neck and Jerry’s fingers are deft and gentle. Erik can’t help but sigh and lean into the touch.

It’s different than when master runs his fingers through Erik’s hair though; with him it’s possessive and claiming and never for free – there’s always a price to be paid for master’ approval and gentle touches. With Jerry it’s more innocent, like sharing a stolen moment of togetherness with a friend.

The door to the garden slams open, followed by mistress’ shriek voice: “Jerry!”

Jerry flinches and quickly gets up, only giving Erik a slight apologetic smile before running off. Erik watches them from his hideout, Jerry bowing submissively and mistress barking some orders Erik can’t hear. She then turns around and Jerry follows her inside.

Erik lingers a bit more, finishing Jerry’s soda, hating for it to go to waste, and then reluctantly returns inside as well to get rid of the evidence.

\--°°--

There’s a soft knock on the door and Gabriel closes the laptop, grinning. He was able to come back home earlier today, making a quick stop at the mall on his way, and he’s eager play with Erik for a bit, now that he’s finally healthy again.

“Come in,” he calls and then watches Erik hesitantly step in, stopping just two feet from the door, clasping his hands behind his back.

“You called for me, master?” he mutters, shifting from foot to foot.

Gabriel takes a moment to look over the boy. Oh, he already looks so much better than when he got him. His long golden blond hair is shining healthily and Gabriel is surprised to see it’s braided. It looks nice on him, though, revealing more of his pretty face. He’s still a bit too skinny but the pale, unhealthy shade of his skin is gone.

Leaning on his elbows, Gabriel beckons for him to come closer, until he’s right in front of the huge table, his bare toes curling into the plush carpet.

“Strip,” he says softly and Erik tenses visibly. Still, after a beat of hesitation, his hands go to the hem of his simple black t-shirt and he pulls it off. Next, he steps out of his pants and kicks them out of the way.

Gabriel raises his eyebrows reproachfully and it takes a moment for Erik to get the hint. He does, though, and quickly folds the clothes into a neat pile with a barely suppressed scowl.

Once he’s done, he stands straight, completely naked, and his hands twitch by his side, probably wanting to cover himself. To Gabriel’s satisfaction, he resists.

Finally getting up, he walks around the table and puts his hands on the boy’s slim hips.

“You look gorgeous,” he hums and Erik’s eyebrows knit together. The poor thing is still not used to compliments. His cheeks turn a beautiful pink color and he drops his gaze again. With a finger under his chin, he lifts his face up to look into his strikingly blue eyes.

“You are stunning. My beautiful boy,” Gabriel purrs, running his thumb over the boy’s cheek, while he fidgets nervously under the scrutiny.

When he steps back, he hears the boy let out a little breath of relief and Gabriel smiles to himself.

“I’ve got something for you,” Gabriel grins, reaching over to take out a little box from his top drawer. “Open it,” he orders when Erik takes it gingerly from his hand, watching the golden logo on the box with dismay. Oh, so he recognizes the store.

When he finally lifts the lid, his face falls and Gabriel chuckles. Erik takes out the luxurious black panties with an intricate lace in the front and holds it out as if it’s going to bite him.

“Like hell I’m wearing this,” he grits out, his eyes flashing angrily to Gabriel for the briefest moment. “Master,” he adds reluctantly. Oh, Gabriel _loves_ the fire in this one. It makes this all the more fun.

“Oh, I apologize,” Gabriel raises his eyebrows mockingly. “Is it not to your taste? I guess I’ll have to find something more fitting then.”

Reaching to his drawer again, he pulls out another box. This time, he opens it himself and takes out a bright red lace thong.

Erik pales and recoils physically from the offending piece of garment.

“I’ll wear the black one, Master,” he says quickly and Gabriel chuckles at his sudden eagerness.

“Oh, but it’s too late for that. Now put this on,” he says, his voice hard.

“Master,” Erik pleads, turning his best puppy eyes at him and Gabriel leans back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. He should know by now that this doesn’t work on him.

“You have until the count of three,” Gabriel says deceptively softly. “And then I’m going to paddle your ass red and you still will be wearing the thong. One….”

Erik balls his hands into fists at his sides, huffing angrily, and doesn’t make a move to take the red panties hanging from the finger of Gabriel’s outstretched hand.

“Two,” Gabriel counts slowly and hesitation flicks over Erik’s face. “Three…”

“Fuck,” Erik curses under his breath as he loses his battle and quickly slips into the underwear.

“There’s a good boy,” Gabriel grins hungrily, ignoring the sour look on Erik’s face. “Look at you. So pretty,” he hums as he leans close, running his hand over the luxurious material, kneading the perfect round ass of the slave.

Erik lets out a startled gasp when Gabriel snakes his hand underneath and strokes his cock. It’s been a while since he last let the boy cum and it shows in how fast he reacts, instantly filling in Gabriel’s hand. Gathering the pre-cum as a lube, he strokes him to full hardness, enjoying the way Erik’s mouth hangs open and his eyes cloud with arousal.

“Master,” he whines after a while and Gabriel lets go, taking a step back. Erik grunts in frustration, panting.

“Now this is a good look on you,” Gabriel praises, drinking in the slave in front of him; his face flushed with arousal, his hard cock straining against the see-through lace, he looks properly debauched. “Beautiful.”

Gabriel runs a teasing finger up and down Erik’s shaft, making him wriggle and thrust uselessly. He presses kisses along his neck, whispering in the boy’s ear:

“Now, be a sweetheart and grab me a beer from the kitchen, would you?”

Erik’s eyes go comically wide when he stutters. “Like… now?”

“Yes, now,” Gabriel answers darkly and Erik swallows.

“Master,” he tries but something on Gabriel’s face must tell him just how useless it would be to argue. He slinks out of the room and Gabriel can’t help but huff a laugh at the sound of him running down the corridor. He’s probably hoping to avoid anyone by being as quick as possible but the kitchen is going to be bustling with dinner preparations at this time of the day.

Sure enough, Erik’s back not two minutes later, breathless and red in the face but he’s clutching a cold can of beer.

“Good boy,” Gabriel smiles and Erik flushes even more, glancing at Gabriel a mix of insecurity and hope.

“Suck me,” he orders and this time, Erik doesn’t hesitate. He goes to his knees gracefully, undoing Gabriel’s pants with his long, slim fingers.

Gabriel’s already hard and when Erik takes him into his mouth, he groans at sweet, sweet pleasure. He lets him go at his own pace for a while, enjoying the hot wetness of his mouth, but then fists both hands in his hair, not caring if he ruins his complicated hairdo, and starts fucking his mouth.

Erik doesn’t fight it, he lets his mouth go slack and soon enough, Gabriel comes down his throat, holding him still until he swallows the last drop.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Erik sits back on his haunches, panting. His eyes are blown wide and his cock still impossibly hard behind the red lace.

“You’ve been very good for me today. I think you deserve a little reward, don’t you? Get up.”

Erik gets up on wobbly feet and Gabriel guides him to lean his head on his shoulder while he reaches down and takes his cock in his hand again. He works him in quick, determined strokes, not looking to tease him, only wanting to get him off.

“Anytime you want, sweetheart,” Gabriel whispers and a moment later Erik comes with a strangled cry, spilling his seed all over the new thong and Gabriel’s hand.

“Clean it,” Gabriel brings the hand to Erik’s lips, who groans and pulls away. Gabriel’s having none of that, though, and he grips Erik’s hair hard and holds him in place until he licks all of it clean.

“Good,” he pats his head and presses a soft kiss on his forehead.

Feeling pleasantly sated, he sits back in his leather chair and finally takes a sip of the beer.

“Come here,” he points to a spot on the floor next to him. Erik, who’s still standing in the middle of the room in his soiled underwear, looking lost and dazed, seems grateful enough for the order.

“May I take these off now?” he asks as he walks around the table, wincing.

“No,” Gabriel shakes his head and grins at the way Erik grimaces. He still sinks down to his knees easily and nuzzles his face into Gabriel’s thigh, pressing close to him.

Gabriel opens back his laptop, pulling up a report he needs to review, while with his other hand he strokes Erik’s hair affectionately, scratching his skull lightly, making him shiver with pleasure.

“My perfect boy,” he mutters appreciatively, eliciting a pleased sigh from the slave.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik learns more about Jerry and Gabriel teaches Erik a lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's clear but like couple of weeks passed between the last chapter and this

Erik wakes up to his master’s heavy arm pinning him down and the sun already streaming in. It must be weekend then. Most of the days, master’s already long gone to work by the time Erik wakes up but on weekends Erik gets to wake up cocooned in his arms.

He sighs contently and cuddles closer, intertwining their legs together. In the month he’s been here, he’s learned to enjoy the small luxuries and not resent himself too much for seeking comfort in his master’s arms. It’s fine. Life’s shitty enough as it is and Erik refuses to makes this harder on himself than it has to be.

And besides, after four years of waking up on the hard cot to the ear-piercing sound of the factory alarm after about five hours of sleep, he can’t get enough of the luxuriously soft mattress underneath him and the comforting warmth of his master next to him.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” master murmurs, kissing Erik’s lips softly and Erik hums. Master’s always so sweat in the morning. Pity it doesn’t last that long.

As expected, his kisses turn more demanding and soon enough, Erik can feel master’s morning wood nudging against his belly.

“Suck me,” he growls in Erik’s ear and he tries his hardest to suppress a sigh. He starts to move down but master stops him with a hand in Erik’s hair.

“No, lie on your back,” he says, a hungry glint in his eyes.

Erik obeys, slightly confused. It all becomes clear when master gets out of the bed and tugs Erik closer so that his head is hanging down over the edge of the mattress.

Erik feels his heart speed up with fear and he fists the bed sheet in his hands for purchase. Master starts slowly though. The position is weird but Erik does his best to suck and lick master’s dick the way he likes it. Closing his eyes, he takes small comfort in the clean, musky smell of master, nothing like the rancid filthy cocks of his overseers at the factory.

“Take a breath, pet,” Master instructs and before Erik can even process what that means, master takes hold of his head and thrusts way down until his pubic hair tickles Erik’s nose, his cock going deeper down Erik’s throat.

It cuts off his breath and Erik gags, the spasming of his throat making master shiver with pleasure. Erik’s eyes water and he tries to pull away in panic, but Master only tightens the hold in his hair.

“Hold it,” he growls and Erik struggles to get his fear under control. When he finally lets up, Erik manages to get two wet gulps of air in before he’s once again pulled back down. _Fucking hell_. Immediately his lungs start to burn again and it takes all his willpower not to claw at Master’s thighs.

It seems to go on forever and Erik would beg if all his mental capacity wasn’t spent on trying to time his breaths and keeping his panic at bay. When master finally spills his seed down Erik’s throat, he swallows gratefully, glad for this to be over. He licks him clean and master hums appreciatively before nudging him to lie back on the bed and snuggling close.

“You were amazing, love,” master praises him and Erik beams despite himself. His own erection flagged a bit but he’s still horny and tentatively nuzzles closes, rocking his hips a bit against master’s leg.

“Not now, pet,” master chuckles and Erik groans in frustration. “I have work to do.”

“Isn’t it your day off today, master?” Erik pouts, watching unhappily as master gets out of bed and starts to get dressed.

“There’s always work to be done. The company doesn’t run by itself, you know.”

“It’s been almost a week, though, master. That’s just plain cruel,” Erik rasps out, his voice hoarse. He realizes he’s pushing his luck right now but he feels like he at least deserves to get off after having his throat fucked raw and usually master’s been pretty generous with Erik’s orgasm. Not once has master fucked him without getting him off too and usually Erik got to come at least every other day.

The last week though, master’s been busy with some project and Erik’s been looking forward to the weekend all the more. Granted, Erik has learned that master doesn’t take well to Erik demanding anything from him, but he’s feeling his mood turn sour at being ignored like this.

“Someone’s needy today,” master smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Erik swallows. Perhaps he really should have shut up. “Come here. Bend over the bed,” he orders and Erik goes, glancing at master nervously but his face doesn’t betray anything.

There’s a sound of master rummaging through a drawer and the squelching of lube and soon something is pressed against his ass, making his gasp.

“Easy,” master says, putting a hand on Erik’s lower back to keep him in place. “It’s not that big.”

It’s a butt plug, Erik realizes and it feels plenty big as the widest part passes past his tight muscles. Once it’s in, Erik feels uncomfortably full, his hole spasming, trying to push the thing out but of course it’s useless.

Master takes the flared end of the plug and pulls it out halfway before pressing it back in, twisting and turning. Erik keens, his toes curling in the carpet and master chuckles.

“Good,” he says, finally leaving it be and giving Erik’s ass one last smack. “Get dressed. I have something for you to do.”

Erik hastily throws on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and follows Master out of the room, hissing at the way the plug shift inside him as he walks.

To his surprise, master leads him to the kitchen, where Tracy is already starting to prepare lunch. She gives them a surprised look, but bows respectfully.

“Master,” she greets him and master pushes Erik forward.

“Tracy, Erik’s to help you today with lunch preparations. Don’t go easy on him. I’ll be in my office working but I’ll check on you later. Oh and Tracy,” he says as an afterthought when he’s already at the door. “Please make Erik some nice soothing tea with honey for his throat, would you?”

Erik feels his cheeks heat with shame and he keeps his eyes on his bare feet. Tracy, on the other hand, only nods and answers politely, “Of course, master.”

Soon the water is boiling and when Tracy places two steaming cups on the table, he finally looks up, drawing his shoulder up defensively. He can only imagine how other house slaves look at bedwarmers like himself – dirty, lazy fucktoys.

Her face is nothing but warm and friendly, though, and he feels himself falter.

“Come sit down,” she says, sitting on the bench on the other side of the small breakfast table.

Erik perches himself down carefully, trying to hide his wince at the butt plug moving inside him, pressing against his sweet spot.

“How are you?” she asks, sounding genuinely concerned, and Erik studies her for a while. They haven’t talked much, as she’s always busy around the kitchen or somewhere else. She’s not that old, in her forties maybe, but her short brown hair is already streaked with silver. She’s soft-spoken and quite plain but something about her presence is weirdly calming and grounding.

“I’m fine. I think,” he answers hesitantly and takes a sip of the tea smelling strongly of herbs. It _is_ nicely soothing on his throat, he admits grudgingly.

“Yeah? Settling in alright?”

“I don’t know, should I be?” Erik smirks and Tracy draws up her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Is he—” he hesitates, fidgeting. Rationally, he knows he shouldn’t be asking this but the uncertainty is eating him up. “Is he going to get bored of fucking me and get rid of me?” he asks finally, lowering his voice just above whisper. It’s something he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about lately. How long before the novelty wears off? And what then, will he be shipped back to the factory?

“Oh, honey,” she sighs, patting his forearm. “I wish I could make any promises but you know there are no certainties in the life of a slave. But if it’s any consolation, I don’t think he will. He didn’t get rid of Jerry when mistress wanted him to.”

“What?” Erik blinks in surprise and leans closer, hungry for any piece of gossip. “What happened?”

Tracy snorts. “Mistress bought him about a year ago, a complete impulse purchase. Master was mad, it was with _his_ money, mind you. She insisted he was going to be her muse. For about a week, she was utterly infatuated with him and the poor thing had to stay still in front of her easel in impossible poses for about ten hours a day. Of course, soon enough she grew bored with him and wanted to bring him back to the auction.

“They had a huge fight, I heard master shouting that she needs to take responsibility for the human life she bought and he will not have her change slaves like dirty socks. It was glorious, we all listened in the hallway. I don’t think mistress ever got a yelling like that before,” Tracy laughs fondly.

“Oh. So did—” Erik hesitates. “Did master make him his pleasure slave?” he ventures, burning with curiosity. At the same time, he feels kind of bad for talking about Jerry behind his back like this.

“No,” she shakes her head, her mirth slipping away. “Not that he didn’t try, though. But Jerry’s previous owner did a number on him, the boy was a mess, absolutely terrified of everything and everyone. He had a panic attack when master brought him to his bedroom. I was called to get him calmed down. The poor thing. But master didn’t try again after that,” she shrugs.

“In the end, he just made him a boy for everything. He runs errands, helps here and there. Jerry’s the sweetest, most obedient slave ever, it’s fucked up, why his previous master would hurt him like that,” she shakes her head sadly. “I’m pretty sure he grew up on master, too, though. He bought him the greenhouse and everything. But anyway,” she finishes her tea. “Enough chit chat, do you know how to cook?”

“No, not really,” Erik admits, his mind still reeling.

“Never mind. You can still chop vegetables. Come on.”

She gives him a cutting board and a knife and puts him in a corner of the kitchen so as not to get under her feet. In front of him she puts a bowl with carrots and other vegetables. Everything has to be chopped or diced or sliced, which, apparently, is not the same thing, and it must be done quickly, yet precisely, and Erik’s head spins from all the instructions when he finally takes the knife in his hand.

He doesn’t even get through his first carrot when the plug in his ass starts to vibrate. He jumps in surprise, only barely suppressing the moan, and grips the kitchen counter for his dear life. _Oh, the fucking bastard_ , he swears to himself and he shifts, trying to find a position that doesn’t feel as infuriating good.

From the other side of the kitchen, Tracy gives him a suspicious look and Erik feels his face turn bright red. Whether she can tell what’s going on or not, she has the good grace not to ask and just focuses on the stove.

Immediately, his dick fills in and starts to leak. Concentrating on making equal slices now seems like the hardest thing ever when all his mental energy is spent on trying not to pant too loud. Soon enough there’s a wet stain on his underwear and he stands as close to the counter as possible, hoping to hide his raging hard-on.

Just as he’s about to run off to the bathroom, consequences be damned, the buzzing stops and he sags. Already, his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead and he takes a shaky breath. Somehow he doesn’t believe he’s out of the woods yet and quickly tries to chop as much as possible while the respite lasts.

Sure enough, the plug comes back to life not five minutes later and this time, Erik’s unable to cut off his strangled moan. Tracy, bless her heart, doesn’t miss a beat even as Erik bites the back of his hand to keep himself from making any more embarrassing sounds.

The vibrator goes on and off irregularly for the next hour and Erik’s a complete mess at the end of it. He hasn’t sliced half of the vegetables and eventually, Tracy just takes it away from him and finishes it herself. He feels like crying but she just pats his shoulder and tells him to stir instead.

A moment later, the door opens and Erik didn’t think he would ever be so relieved to see master again. His heart sinks, though, when instead of taking him away, master makes himself comfortable at the table and pulls out his phone.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he waves his hand at them to continue. “I’m just going to hang out in here before lunch is ready.”

Unsurprisingly, the vibrations start again shortly after, only this time turned up what feels ten notches higher. Erik gasps and keeps glancing over his shoulder to give master a pleading look, but master blatantly ignores him, not lifting his eyes from his phone, a smug smile on his face.

Erik doesn’t remember much from the rest of the lunch preparation. Eventually, master lowers the vibrations back down to a more bearable level and then has Erik kneel by his side as he eats lunch, feeding him morsels of food, which Erik takes gingerly from his fingers even though he’s not really hungry.

His whole body is thrumming with arousal, his dick throbbing almost painfully. Erik wants to cry when master finally finishes his plate and then asks Tracy to make him a cup of coffee. He drinks it slowly, while browsing the news on his phone, reaching down to pet Erik’s hair from time to time. He ups the vibrations again and Erik can’t help but grab his Master’s thigh for support, panting.

“How are you holding up, pet,” he asks casually and Erik just shakes his head.

“Please, Master,” he whines pitifully.

“Wanna go back to the bedroom?”

“Please,” he nods and finally master relents.

“Alright. Let’s go then.”

He tugs at Erik’s collar and he scrambles up, eager to follow.

“Strip,” master orders as soon as the bedroom door closes behind them and Erik’s more than willing to get rid of the soaked-through underwear. His dick is flushed dark red and impossibly hard. Master comes close, giving it two quick strokes before letting go again, chuckling at the way it makes Erik whimper.

“Do you think you’re desperate enough?” he asks.

“Yes, master,” Erik grits out, his need to come taking over his last trace of resistance.

“Hm,” master hums, unconvinced, Erik feels a stab of desperation at the prospect of being left like this any longer.

“Please?” he whines.

“Oh, well, since you ask so nicely,” master grins. “Go lie on the bed.”

Erik hurries to obey, lying flat on his back, his skin prickling with anticipation.

Master gets a bottle of lube and sits next to him. “Don’t move,” he warns sternly. First he drips a little lube on his hole and pulls out the plug. Next he lubes his hand and wraps it lightly around Erik’s dick. It feels heavenly but it’s not enough. He’s so fucking close, he’s like two strokes from coming, but master keeps his hand infuriatingly still and Erik wants nothing more than to thrust his hips. Focusing on his breathing, he fists his hands in the sheets and locks his muscles.

“Maybe next time you want to whine about not getting off, you’ll remember this, hm?” master says gently and Erik nods. Tears start gathering in his eyes and he clenches them shut tightly.

“Good boy,” Master murmurs and starts jerking him, _fucking finally_.

“Master, I’m gonna—” Erik gasps out.

“Oh, go ahead,” master allows graciously and then Erik’s coming, his toes curling and back arching as pleasure rips through him.

It feels like he’s coming forever and Master jerks him through it until Erik sags, completely spent and exhausted. Only Master doesn’t stop stroking his increasingly sensitive dick and Erik’s eyes fly open in fear.

“Master!” Erik pants, trying to wriggle away for the gut-wrenching sensation.

“What do you say?” Master asks, his voice hard, as he relentlessly rubs the head of his dick, making him scream.

“I’m sorry! For being pushy!” Erik tries, sobbing.

“Nope,” Master shakes his head, easily, not slowing in the slightest.

“I don’t—Oh, Thank you!” Erik cries out and then sags, panting, when master finally lets go of him.

“There you go,” master smiles. He wipes his hand on Erik’s chest but he doesn’t have the energy to feel too undignified about it. Suddenly he’s cold, the cooling sweat making him shiver and he feels weirdly lost and like he’s spiralling.

When master gets out of the bed, Erik curls on his side hugging his knees and swallows his tears. A moment later the mattress next to him dips again and then master’s tugging him closer.

“Oh, come here, you,” master sighs softly and Erik is grateful to cuddle close. When master starts running a soothing hand up and down his back, Erik lets out a breath, feeling some of the tension finally uncurl. It still takes a long time to get his heart to slow down. Once his breath evens out, though, his eyes start to droop and he looks up at master tiredly.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, you can rest,” he hears master murmur as he drifts asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter, sweeter chapter because I was craving a bit of fluff (well, as much as Gabriel is capable of providing, anyway).

Erik is sitting on the bed, watching master get dressed. He has a small smile on is face and Erik wonders what he’s so happy about, considering he didn’t even fuck him this morning. Probably thinking about the shitload of money he’s going to make today or something.

Turning his head to look out of the window, Erik wonders if Jerry’s in the garden already. He just hopes he isn’t on one of the out-of-the-house errands that tend to take the whole day. It’s lonely here without him. Sometimes Erik goes hang out in the kitchen and listens to Tracy’s gossips. Even though most of them are about slaves from her previous place that Erik doesn’t know, it is still entertaining and Tracy’s laugh is way too contagious.

There are days when she just shoos him away though, saying not to get in her way. If there is nothing better to do, Erik sometimes sits next to Dennis but the older slave has little patience for him. And besides, watching him tap quietly on a laptop is just barely more fun than being coped alone upstairs in the bedroom.

“Get dressed, we’re going out,” master interrupts his thoughts and Erik’s head snaps up.

“Really? I mean, yes master!”

Master doesn’t bring clothes for him to wear like he did last time and so he goes for his usual, soft linen pants and loose shirt. Master himself is dressed more casually than usually, with no suit or tie, just a pale blue button down and grey suit pants. He doesn’t say anything when he sees what Erik’s put on, only smiles and gestures for him to follow.

In the car, Erik puts on his own seatbelt this time, fidgeting with the buckle.

“Are we—are we going to the mall again, master?”

He knows he shouldn’t be asking but he likes to know what to get ready for, if possible.

“No,” master shakes his head as he starts the car. “We’re going somewhere where there’ll only be the two of us, with no one to spew their germs on you,” he smiles, squeezing Erik’s thigh.

Erik leans back with a sigh, enjoying the view of the countryside passing by. He does feel slightly reassured. At least he won’t get himself in trouble for embarrassing master in front of other people. Not that there aren’t a million other ways to get himself in trouble anyway.

They drive for about half an hour before leaving the main road and turning into a small dirt road. Master slows down as the car jumps up and down on the uneven terrain. Soon they reach a small gate, which opens with a whir after master punches in a code on the key pad.

Erik leans forward, watching in trepidation as they continue down the narrow road that cuts through the thick surrounding vegetation. For a moment, Erik has the hysterical thought that master’s taking him to some secluded place to dispose of him and swallows the fear. That’s nonsense, isn’t it? Master wouldn’t. Right?

Glancing at the man besides him, he calms down a bit. Master seems to be in a good mood, whistling softly even as his eyes are trained intensely on the road, and Erik forces himself to relax.

Finally, the trees open up and Erik feel himself gape, pressing his face to the window excitedly as master parks the car. In front of them is a small beach, completely hidden by the cliffs and trees, with white sand and bright blue see.

Eager, Erik jumps out of the car, not waiting for master’s instruction. The warm wind hits him in the face and from this close, the taste of salt in the air is even more intense. He runs to the beach, giggling at the feeling of hot soft sand flowing through his toes. This is even better than he ever imagined.

Master joins him soon, hugging him from behind and Erik shouts over the beating of waves: “It’s beautiful, master!”

“Oh, I know,” he smiles smugly, pressing a kiss on Erik’s shoulder. “Come on, now!”

Master takes off his clothes in quick smooth movements. Erik takes a moment to appreciate master’s lithe form, his bronze skin, the muscles on his broad shoulders. Taking the hint, Erik fumblingly takes off his own clothes, suddenly feeling too small, too skinny and too pale in the harsh sun next to master’s perfect body.

When master takes his hand and leads him towards the foaming water, Erik digs his heel in the sand, suddenly afraid. The ocean is breath-taking to look at but also no small deal intimidating; the endless water and powerful waves breaking with almost a deafening roar… and how deep must it be? Erik can’t even imagine.

“Master, can—Can I stay on the shore?” he tries. Master is already waist deep and watching him expectantly.

“Nonsense. The water is amazing, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t—I don’t know how to swim,” he admits, taking another step back. Why can’t he just stay on the beach? He’d be perfectly content to just watch the ocean. And maybe look for shells. He has absolutely no need to get anywhere near those towering waves.

Back at home, none of the kids learned to swim. Sure, there was a murky pond nearby and a frigid stream where they splashed and jumped on the stones sometimes, but the summers there were cold and rainy so he never saw the appeal.

Master’s face softens at that and he steps out of water. “It’s okay. I promise I won’t let you drown,” he smiles and takes Erik’s hand. A sudden rage and hatred curl in his stomach at master’s patronizing tone and he has an urge to just kick some sand in his face and make a run for it.

Taking a breath, he forces himself to calm down. He’s not going to ruin this. Master clearly took him to the beach as a treat and Erik _does_ appreciate it. If he causes a scene now, he can forget about any more trips and he’ll just end up locked inside with a paddled ass. It’s not worth it.

Master leads him into the water; the bottom is quite steep and after only a few steps, Erik’s feet can barely reach the sand. He clings to master’s naked body for his dear life. Master pulls him closer, wrapping his arms around him.

“It’s alright,” he soothes him. It takes a long time for Erik to calm down, though, and stop feeling like’s going to die at any moment. Master leans in for a kiss and the distraction helps; his lips taste like salt but are soft and hot. They make out for a while, the water sloshing around them. It doesn’t take long for Erik to feel master’s erection nudging at him and he wonders if he’s going to fuck him in the water. Is that even doable?

Erik’s way too glad when master finally leads him out of the water. There’s stack of sunbeds and master takes two and sets them in a tree’s shade. Unsurprisingly, master pulls him down on himself once he lies down, his kisses turning more demanding and his hand snakes down between Erik’s cheeks.

Even as impatient as he seems, he still takes the time to lube and stretch Erik before pulling him down on his dick, having him ride him. It’s such a weird feeling, getting fucked in the open like this and Erik has to keep reminding himself that this is a private beach.

Master lets him set the pace and leans back, watching Erik with half-lidded eyes. Soon, Erik’s thighs burn but he makes himself continue, moaning when master reaches to stroke his erection.

They both come soon after and Erik collapses on the sunbed next to master. He feels like he has sand everywhere, even in places where it has no right to be, but he doesn’t really care when master smiles at him fondly.

“Good boy,” he hums and Erik snuggles closer, still riding the afterglow of his orgasm.

Master gets a cooler from the car and gets himself a beer, throwing a bottle of cold water at Erik. He sips at it gratefully and is surprised when master hands him the beer a moment later as well. He hasn’t had alcohol in… well, never actually. He stole a few sips from his father’s bottles of homemade spirits but that barely counts.

Master lets him have only a few gulps but Erik can feel it already, his head spinning, his whole body buzzing pleasantly. It makes him more tired though, and he dozes off, feeling his mouth hang open as he has some nonsensical dreams featuring master smiling at him kindly.

When he makes up, the sun has moved on the sky and next to him, master’s on his phone. Erik winces at the gritty, sticky feeling between his legs and goes wash up in the sea, not venturing any deeper than his hips.

Master seems content relaxing on the sunbed and Erik sinks on his knees in the wet sand, digging around for shells, watching with fascination the tiny crabs that crawl about.

“You need to get back in the shade,” master calls at him after a moment and Erik pouts.

“But I wanna stay here for a bit, master,” he says, pointing to the sand castle he started to build.

With a sigh, master gets up and Erik’s stomach sink. He slumps, ready to be dragged back to the sunbed, but when master approaches him, he’s holding a bottle in his hand.

“I don’t want you to burn. Stay still,” he orders and then slathers a thick layer of sunscreen on him. He ends up all white and sticky but is still immensely grateful for the gesture.

“Thank you, master,” he says and finds that for once, he means it.

The rest of the day passes pleasantly; for lunch they eat sandwiches that Tracy clearly packed for them. Master goes for a swim a few more times but luckily he doesn’t make Erik join him anymore. Erik’s happy to spend most of the time by the shore, cooling his legs in the foam but staying safely away from deeper waters.

Erik almost wishes he had his notebook with him to sketch the view but it’s not like he’d dare to draw in front of master anyway. Hiding his drawings is how he managed to keep his supplies and his only hobby for so long. He’d much rather take a beating than have his only way of stress relief taken away as a punishment.

The shadows crawl all the way across the beach by time they finally pack their things. Master makes Erik stand under an icy-cold shower, grumbling about sand in the car, and then scrubs him roughly with a towel that feels like sandpaper.

As they leave the beach, Erik throws once last longing look behind him and then slumps in the seat, suddenly tired from the whole day out.

“Thank you, master. For taking me,” he says quietly. He knows how much master likes to hear his gratitude, and if that’s what it takes to make him take him out more often, so be it. Master only smiles warmly, patting his leg, and then focuses on the road.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik gets himself in trouble. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter's already written, I just need to edit it a bit, but the next update will be really soon.

Erik sighs for what must be the thousand’s time in ten minutes. He is so fucking bored. Master left early in the morning while Erik was still asleep, as usual. He only vaguely remembers him pressing a kiss on Erik’s forehead and whispering to sleep on.

He took his breakfast in the kitchen but all of the other slaves were way too busy and he ended up eating alone. Afterwards he wandered aimlessly around the house before he ended back in master’s bed, staring at the beam ceiling, counting the knots in the wood.

There’s got to be something to entertain himself with. He’s going to go out of his mind if he stays in the bed a minute longer.

With renewed determination, he jumps out of the bed and starts looking around the bedroom. The drawer in the nightstand on master’s side hides a stash small bottles of lube and plugs of various shapes and colors.

Feeling his cheeks turn hot, he quickly slams the drawer shut. Of course. What the hell did he even expect, he shakes his head, and moves to the other cabinets in the room.

To his disappointment, he finds absolutely nothing of interest. The drawers that are not locked contain only piles of neatly folded clothes. His excitement spikes a little when he finds a stack of books but he only needs to take one look and grunts. It’s all non-fiction about something called share-option schemes, foreign stock markets and hedging, whatever that is.

What a stupid, boring room. He slips out of the door and listens for a while but the house is completely quiet. It takes him good ten minutes of going from room to room in this labyrinth of a mansion before he manages to find Dennis. He’s standing on a ladder, utility belt around his waist, hands deep in a disassembled air-conditioning unit.

“Where is everybody?” Erik asks, leaning against the wall, watching Dennis work.

“Working,” Dennis shrugs distractedly. “Tracy went for a weekly grocery shopping, she took Jerry with her. Mistress is out, too.”

“What are you doing?” he asks curiously. Dennis finally looks away from the machine and gives Erik an annoyed look.

“I’m fixing the AC, what does it look like? If I don’t get it done until master’s back, he’s going to be pissed it’s like a sauna in here. Do you need anything?” he asks impatiently.

“I’m bored,” Erik pouts and Dennis scoffs.

“Oh no, you poor thing,” he shakes his head.

“Can you give me something to do? I can—I don’t know. Wipe the floor. Dust the chandeliers. Whatever.”

“Don’t even try that with me,” Dennis snorts and then his face softens. “I’m sorry, kid, you know I can’t help you. Now, go, can’t you see I’m stressed out of my mind right now?”

Erik stuffs his hands into his pockets and lets him be. Being in charge of the household comes with some nice privileges but it must be stressful as hell, too.

He walks down the empty corridors, stopping to examine each weird painting on the wall, entertaining himself by pretending he’s an art critic in a museum or a judge in an art competition. Did mistress paint those? Or just pick them?

Erik wonders what her studio must be like. He bets it’s pretty cool, despite Jerry insisting otherwise. Listening to the silence of the house, Erik bites his lip as he saunters into a wing of the house he’s been deliberately avoiding so far, trying to look casual even as his heart is beating painfully.

He’d probably just turn out leave if one of the doors hasn’t been left cracked open and he hasn’t caught a glimpse of an easel. Oh, what the hell. He’ll just take a quick peek, there’s no harm in that. No one will ever know.

Quietly he slips into the room through the opening, holding his breath. It’s much larger than master’s bedroom and so much more interesting. There are canvases stacked by the wall, some empty, some with half-finished weirdly distorted paintings. Huh. Erik tilts his head as he examines them. Is that what modern art is like now?

It’s not at all to Erik’s taste and he stops caring about the paintings after inspecting just a few of the canvases. Instead, he goes to the easel, his eyes going wide at all the supplies mistress has there. There’s a drawer with only of brushes of different sizes and shapes and other drawers with paint tubes, charcoals, pencil and pastel and things Erik has no idea what they’re for.

Without thinking twice about it, he takes a couple of the tubes out to look at them closer, reading the names of the colors. _Burnt umber. Alizarin crimson._ Erik snorts, shaking his head. That just sounds so unnecessarily complicated.

The unmistakable sound of the main door banging shut makes him jump and flinches so hard he drops the tubes. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , he swears in panic as he hastily throws them into the nearest box and flees out of the room as fast as he can.

He stops only once he’s back in the safety of his master’s bedroom, panting, his hands shaking.

Even over the pounding of blood in his ears he catches the high-pitched voice of mistress from inside the house and his stomach turns. _Fuck that was close._

It’s okay, he tries to tell himself. No one knows. He’s good.

It doesn’t work, though, and his nerves continue to make him nauseous for the rest of the day, which he spends pacing master’s bedroom, not daring to leave it again.

When master finally comes back, Erik feels weirdly relieved. He leans close, sighing quietly, when master kisses his forehead.

“Did you have a good day, sweetheart?” he asks, but he’s distracted. He barely looks at Erik before sitting on the bed, tapping furiously on his phone, mouth set in a hard line.

Problems at work, probably, Erik thinks. He goes to his knees next to the bed, resting his head on master’s thigh and master still pets him from time to time between typing. Erik lets the familiarity of the position and the gentleness of master’s touch ground him until he finally feels some the tension leave him.

It doesn’t last long, though, as not an hour later he hears the clicking of heels stomping angrily down the corridor, nearing the bedroom. Erik’s blood turns cold and he clutches master’s ankle in fear, as if that could save him from what’s coming.

A moment later, mistress barges into the room and Erik hears master’s annoyed sigh.

“Hanna, my sister dear, what are you doing?”

“Your fucktoy got into my studio,” she screeches and Erik shrinks into himself even more.

“No, he didn’t,” masters snorts. “He knows better than that, don’t you, pet.”

It takes but one look at Erik’s guilty face for master’s amused expression to turn dark. He fists his hand in Erik’s hair, pulling so hard it makes his eyes water, and growls angrily: “Care to explain yourself?”

“I’m sorry, master. Mistress! I was just—looking,” he gasps out.

“He made a complete mess! All my paints are mixed up. I can’t work like this!” she continues accusingly, not looking like calming any time soon.

“No, I didn’t, I swear, I only—” Erik can’t help but argue, even though deep down he knows he should just _shut up_.

“Alright, enough,” master barks. “I don’t have time for this. I’m sorry Hanna, he won’t do it again. I’ll take care of this.”

“Like hell he will,” she huffs. “I’m gonna whip the shit out of him!”

“You will do no such thing,” master says calmly and Erik clings onto him even tighter. “He’s not yours to punish. I’ll do it myself.”

“Fine!” she concedes grudgingly. “But I want you to do it in front of the others, because this is just ridiculous. Why do you even keep a brat like him,” she spews before turning around and leaving the room, her angry steps echoing through the house for a long time before they fade.

Master lets go of Erik and pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, she can be such a pain in the ass,” he murmurs and before Erik can get his hopes up, he turns his cold eyes on him.

“What were you doing in there? You _know_ her rooms are off limits to everyone.”

“I’m sorry, master,” Erik whispers, swallowing thickly. “I only wanted to look. At the—at the art stuff,” he sniffles

“Look for something to borrow, maybe?” he says with a small smile that absolutely does not match the seriousness of the words.

“No, I wouldn’t, I swear I didn’t! Why would I even—” Erik stutters out, his heart picking up with renewed fear. Oh god, if master thinks he’s stealing from mistress, he’s _so fucked._

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he says as he reaches to one of the drawers and pulls out a crumpled sheet of paper. Erik looks at it, uncomprehending for a while and then his stomach sinks when he realizes it’s the drawing of master he did back then. The drawing he stuffed into his pocket. Right before falling ill.

Oh shit. Master must have found it when he helped him change out of his sweated clothes. Not that he remembers much from it, as sick as he was.

“I—I’m sorry,” he says, at loss what else to say.

“What for? I think it’s a rather flattering portrait, wouldn’t you say?” master asks in the same half-amused, half-teasing tone that Erik has no fucking idea what to make out of.

“I didn’t take anything,” he says feebly. What’s the point, anyway. It’s not like anyone’s going to believe him. And stealing, that’s just barely any better than running. What kind of punishment will there be? Still, he’d probably take anything if it meant he got to stay here.

“I sure hope you didn’t,” master says, serious again. “I would not be impressed if you did. And my sister even less so. Now come here,” he holds out his hands and Erik scrambles up, confused but grateful as master holds him close.

“You know I’m going to have to punish you, though, right?” master sighs softly and Erik’s stomach twists at the disappointment in his voice. He hides his face in master’s shirt as tears well in his eyes. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying, if he’s more sorry for himself or terrified of what’s going to happen to him.

Master runs soothing circles on Erik’s back with his hand and soon, Erik manages to get his emotions under control. He wipes his tears with the back of his hand and looks up at master expectantly, his resolve hardening.

“What? Not _now,_ ” master chuckles and Erik clenches his teeth. He fucking wants to get his over with.

“Let’s go to bed before you get yourself in even more trouble, hm?”

Erik follows master listlessly. He brushes his teeth and hair on autopilot and slips under the cover, grateful to still be allowed in master’s bed.

“Master?” he asks quietly, scraping the last bits of courage. “Are—are you going to send me away?”

Mistress’ question is still echoing in his ears. _Why do you even keep a brat like him?_ And why indeed. He’s not very good at this sex thing, inexperienced and clueless most of the time. He’s not very obedient either. It’s not like master couldn’t get the best trained pleasure slave in the world. So why does he even bother with Erik?

“Never,” master answers, something dark and possessive in his voice. “Where would I ever find someone as gorgeous as you again? I’m never letting you go.”

Erik’s not sure if he should feel more reassured or depressed at the prospect. But better the devil you know, right? And when master kisses him, oh-so-softly, Erik pushes his dark thoughts away for tomorrow and nuzzles close before falling asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik gets punished and Gabriel surprises him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's basically the second part of the previous chapter, enjoy!:)

There’s a moment of blissful peacefulness in the morning when Erik stretches lavishly, relishing the soft silk sheets around him, before everything comes crashing back in and he feels his throat close up with fear again.

There are no morning cuddles as master’s already out of bed and dressed. They go on about their day as normal, even though master’s colder, more distant. They still have breakfast together before master leaves for work without a kiss goodbye.

Erik can’t stand to be around the others right now and he’s about to drag himself back to the bedroom when Jerry, who’s been gathering the dirty plates, grabs his arm to stop him.

“What the hell did you do?” he whispers, his eyes wide with fear. “Mistress was pissed as hell yesterday.”

“I, uh… might have, sort of, snooped around her studio?” he says, faking a nonchalant smile.

“Just why would you do that?” Jerry groans unhappily.

“Look, it’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal,” he reassures him, hating to see him this distraught.

“It’s not _fine._ And you’re such an idiot!” Jerry snaps before grabbing the plates angrily and stomping out of the room. Erik considers chasing after him but before he can make himself move, Jerry’s long gone. Eventually, Erik just closes himself in the bedroom, sulking the rest of the morning away, trying hard not to think about what’s coming.

Master’s back early and when he’s called into his office, he’s almost relieved. The waiting is killing him. But then again, that’s probably master’s intention, to let him stew.

Master’s at his computer and he only gestures for him to kneel by his side. Erik goes, his heart hammering in anticipation but as the minutes drag by and nothing happens, he lets out an unhappy whine.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” master smirks, when Erik nuzzles close, turning his pleading eyes on master. “You know you brought this on yourself when you decided to be nosy.”

Erik sighs, hanging his head. If he would only know when and what’s going to happen. How long does he have to wait? And how badly will he be hurt? Now that the relief of master not sending him away has faded, he’s just plain scared and he can’t but think of the boy he saw whipped half to death.

Master seems to take mercy on him and he reaches down, caressing Erik’s cheek.

“You’ll be fine,” he says softly before going back to work and weirdly, it helps. Some of the weight on Erik’s chest is lifted and he takes a breath. If master says he’ll be fine, then he knows he he’ll survive this.

His stomach still sinks when after dinner that day he’s called into the living room and he sees master twirling a cane between his fingers. Everyone’s already there; mistress is lounging in a large armchair, looking positively gleeful, while the slaves are standing quietly by the wall. Tracy and Dennis are both looking solemn and uncomfortable, while Jerry is white as a sheet and he looks on the brink of tears.

Immediately he aches to comfort him, as if it wasn’t his ass that was about to be caned, but master snaps his finger, pointing to the floor and Erik hurries to kneel down.

“The rules in this house are few and easy to follow,” master says coldly and Erik feels the sticky feeling of shame return again. “I consider myself a lenient master but some things I will not tolerate. Erik here is being punished for entering my sister’s room without permission and touching her things. Now take off your pants and lean over the table.”

Erik feels his face turn bright red as he reluctantly pulls down his sweatpants. He wishes he didn’t have to do this in front of the others but he still makes himself bend over the sturdy looking table. The edge of it digs into his hips but he has a feeling that soon that will be the least of his problems.

He crosses his arms at wrists behind his back and presses his face against the polished surface, focusing on a point in mid-distance, trying to find a place in his head away from his situation.

“No,” master corrects him, tapping his wrists with his cane gently. “Hold onto the sides.”

Erik swallows as he obeys and takes hold of the table side with his already sweaty hands. Master roughly kicks his feet wider apart, making him feel even more exposed, and Erik clenches his eyes against the tears of humiliation.

“You’ll get twenty lashes and I want you to count aloud. Anytime you get the number wrong, you’ll get five more.”

Erik curses internally. There will be no zoning out for him when he has to focus on fucking counting.

The swish of the cane is all the warning he gets before the first hit lands, making him yelp, equal parts in surprise and pain. It stinks like a bitch and immediately Erik aches to rub the welt. Instead, he holds on even tighter and grits through his teeth: “One.”

Knowing now what to expect, he takes the first ten lashes relatively quietly, only grunting when the pain gets too much. Master lines the lashes with impressive precision under each other until his whole ass is one throbbing agony.

It all gets so much worse when master moves down to his thighs for the next ten. Erik can’t help the pitiful whines that escape him and it takes him longer and longer after each hit to get his breath under control to rasp out the number.

One particularly nasty hit right at the sensitive soft under his cheeks tears a scream out of his throat. Sweat trickles down his temples, making his hair stick all over to his face and he pants, waiting for the pain to return to a bearable level.

With a sinking panic, he realizes he doesn’t know what number they’re at. _Fuck._ Was it fifteen or sixteen already?

“Number?” master asks impatiently and Erik struggles to get his mind to focus.

“I—I don’t. Sixteen?”

Master _tsks_ disapprovingly. “Fifteen. Are you trying to get out this faster? Let’s make it twenty five then.”

Erik feels hot tear burn in his eyes and he hides his face in his arm. He tries to focus after that, he really does, but it’s starting to get too much as the punishment continues. His brain seems to short-circuit after each hit, all thought leaving his head but for the bright fiery pain. They’re almost done, he tries to tell himself when they reach twenty, just a few more.

The last hits are the hardest though. His heart is pounding and blood is rushing in his ears and he knows he’s fucked when another hit lands and once again, he can’t remember what number it was. Twenty two? Twenty three?

Suddenly feeling completely overwhelmed, he slumps against the table, which is now the only thing holding him up. He can’t do this. He just can’t. He’s never going to be able to keep the count to make this stop and he’ll just be caned until he passes out or master grows tired of it.

He lets out a sob and master starts tapping his ass impatiently with the cane as Erik struggles to push the panic down.

“Number,” master prompts again, but his voice is softer this time. He still keeps tapping the cane and through the haze in his head, Erik realizes there’s a pattern. _Tap tap tap,_ pause. And again. _Tap tap tap_.

“Twenty three?” he tries, holding his breath.

“Good,” master says and Erik lets out a shaky breath, grateful beyond words. The last two hits don’t hurt any less but land in a quick succession and then it’s finally over.

“Let this be a warning to others. Now, get out of here,” master dismisses him and Erik hastily puts his pants back on and is out of the room, determinedly not looking at anyone.

Once he’s back in the bedroom, he stops in front of the mirror. His face is red and blotchy and he twists around to inspect his ass. The welts are angry red and raised but there is not a single drop of blood.

Master is back just a few moments later and he catches Erik looking at himself.

“Let me see,” he grunts, grabbing Erik by the neck and pressing him to bend over on the bed. He runs his other hand over the welts. “I will not have you scarred over my sister’s theatrics,” he mutters and then lets go off him.

“Lie flat on the bed,” he instructs and Erik scrambles to obey. He flinches when a moment later something cold is squirted on his hot abused ass and thighs. Immediately it soothes the worst of the pain and he sighs in relief as Master rubs it in generously.

“Don’t do anything stupid like this again, okay?” he says when he’s done, his voice soft once again, and Erik smiles despite himself.

“I can try, master.”

Master huffs a laugh and finally the coldness from before is gone. “Here. I got you something.” He pulls out a box from under the bed and for a moment, Erik’s worried it’s going to be yet another of master’s beloved lingerie. The box’s much larger though and when he opens it, his heart skips a beat.

“What the fuck, master. How the hell did I deserve this?” he giggles at the absurdity of it and pulls out a set of pencils and charcoals and two fancy sketchbooks.

Master slaps his ass lightly, making him jump. “Don’t make me regret it. But if you’re good, I’ll get you an easel, too,” he promises and kisses him softly.

When they go to bed later on, master falls deep asleep almost immediately, Erik can tell from the way his breathing slows down. He still lies completely still for another twenty minutes just to be sure before quietly wriggling out from underneath his arm. When master doesn’t stir, he quickly throws on some clothes and bolts out of the room, quietly tiptoeing through the silent house down to the slave quarters.

The knock on Jerry’s room is soft, barely a touch on the wood, but the door still cracks open almost immediately, Jerry’s distrustful eyes peeking through the sliver. When he recognized Erik though, he quickly pulls him in and closes the door behind them.

“What are you doing here?” he whispers.

“I just wanted to check if you’re okay.”

The confusion on Jerry’s face is almost comical and he throws up his hands in exasperation. “Are you seriously asking _me_ that? I should be asking _you._ ”

“I’m fine. I really am,” he says, serious. “I mean, sure, I won’t be able to sit for a week but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I haven’t been here that long but I’m starting to think master wouldn’t _really_ hurt me, you know? You said it yourself, he’s not a bad man.”

Jerry lets out a breath and his shoulders slump. “I know,” he mumbles. “It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to remember that when where I was before, master—I mean, previous master,” he stumbles over his words, cheeks turning pink. “For what you did, you’d be lucky if you survived the punishment. I don’t—I didn’t…,” he doesn’t finish, not looking up at Erik, fidgeting with his sleeves again.

“Come here,” Erik pulls him close for a hug. He freezes for a moment but then locks his arms behind Erik’s back and holds on, clutching at Erik’s shirt with a heart-breaking desperation. Having him in his arms like this, it surprises Erik how small and fragile he feels. Sure, Erik’s only a few inches taller and he’s still skinny as hell but Jerry’s slender, narrow shoulders remind him that he really is just a kid.

“Did mistress hurt you?” Erik asks carefully after a long time, when Jerry seems to calm down.

“No,” he sniffles, quickly wiping at his eyes. “She wouldn’t. She was just a lot pissier than usual,” he grins and Erik barks a laugh.

“That sounds fun,” he grimaces sympathetically.

“It’s fine,” he waves his hand. “I’m kinda used to her moods. It’s best to just keep out of her sight, usually. You shouldn’t be here, though. Haven’t had enough trouble lately?”

“Right,” Erik grins. “I should probably go. I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” Jerry says softly, his eyes following Erik all the way down the corridor, until he disappears up the stairs.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik just wants to watch a movie.

Erik still hides his graph notebook and pencil, just in case. As a backup, if everything goes to hell. There’s no need to hide his new, leather-bound one, obviously, and so he carries it everywhere and draws most of the days.

He tries a self-portrait too, sitting in front of the mirror. He never really liked to look at himself and carefully avoided the one cracked mirror there was in the factory, hating his deathly white skin and sunken eyes. But now he almost doesn’t recognize himself; all the time in the garden with Jerry has turned his skin a healthy tanned shade, with freckles all over his nose and cheeks. His hair is sun-bleached, too, almost blonde in places, not the dull brownish color he had in the factory.

He looks older too, he realizes as he probes at the first hints of wrinkles around his eyes. He’s going to turn twenty, soon. How long does he have as a pleasure slave? And what then? Will he be lucky enough to end up like Dennis, running master’s household?

It’s no use dwelling on these thoughts, though. He always knew the life expectancy of a slave was short. In the factory, none of the slaves have been there for more five years, maybe seven if they were lucky. Accidents happened on daily basis, as overworked as they were, or they felt sick or simply too weak to keep up. New batches of slaves regularly poured in to replace the old, used ones, so that the quota could always be met.

Thinking about how easily he could he have ended with the other discarded workers makes him all the more grateful for his master. Here he feels he at least has a chance.

Overall, his days in the mansion flow much more pleasantly now that he can openly fill them with drawing without the fear of being caught.

Like now, for example, when he’s putting on finishing touches to one of his drawings, sitting cross-legged on the couch in master’s office, waiting for him to finish work so that they can have dinner. He doesn’t even notice master has turned off the computer and is watching him from behind his desk.

“Let me see,” he says, reaching a hand out for the sketchbook and Erik freezes. Slowly he closes it and holds it close to his chest.

“I’d rather you didn’t, master,” he says softly, trying to sound as undemanding as possible. It’s not that there’s anything inappropriate in the sketchbook. It just feels too personal, in a way. Not that there’s anything too personal in a slave’s life, not really. And besides, Erik sort of doesn’t want master to see that vast majority of the sketches are of Jerry, who is by far his favorite subject to draw.

Master watches him thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed but then nods. “No, you’re right. This should be your thing. I promise I won’t ever look.”

“I—thank you, master,” he says, stunned. Master just smiles back and Erik hates himself a bit for how giddy it makes him feel.

As it turns out, mistress has no such reservations about Erik’s privacy. It’s his fault, really, because he’s so focused on what he’s drawing that he doesn’t hear her coming until it’s too late. She all but snags the sketchbook from his hands and he has to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep quiet. He does _not_ want another thrashing so soon, not when the bruises on his ass haven’t even healed completely yet.

She leafs through the whole thing, studying each page for a bit, smirking, and Erik watches her anxiously. She then throws it back and Erik struggles to catch it mid-air.

“Your anatomy needs some serious work. What did you study it from?”

“I—I never… I’m self-taught, mistress,” he answers, completely baffled. As if he could ever afford to study, as fuck poor as they were, and then, after becoming a slave, the idea was even more absurd. What world does she live in?

She just huffs and rolls her eyes before walking away and Erik breathes out in relief, checking that her rough treatment of the sketchbook didn’t crumple any of the pages. He totally gets why Jerry said it’s best to just stay out of her sight.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” she yells and he flinches. “I gestured for you to follow, are you stupid?”

He quickly jumps to his feet and catches up with her, his cheeks turning red. Great, so now there are some fucking hand gestures he’s supposed to know?

“This is basic protocol,” she complains as she briskly walks through the house. “You need to learn this stuff. What kind of a personal slave are you? My brother spoils you way too much, I keep telling him that.”

She opens the door to her studio and Erik waits outside.

“Oh, so _now_ you’re too shy to come in? Get inside!”

Erik reluctantly steps in, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

“Hold out your hands,” she orders and then starts piling books into his arms, large thick hardbacks as well thin paperbacks. Erik barely has time to read the titles but it’s clear they’re all drawing books: anatomy, shading, perspective, everything. There’s so many of them Erik struggles not to lose his balance and drop them to the floor.

“That should do,” she says and Erik peeks at her from behind the tower of books in his arms. Her smug, self-satisfied smile does not sit well with Erik at all and he wonders what price there will be to pay. It’s not like he can refuse, though, and he doesn’t want to, even if he could. He really does want those books.

She pushes him out of the door and he stumbles through the house, almost colliding with Dennis who appears from behind a corner.

“Woah, you need a hand?”

He immediately takes a half of his load and Erik sighs, gratefully.

“Where did you get these?” he asks, flicking through the titles.

“Um. Mistress lent them to me,” Erik admits.

“She did?” Dennis scoffs softly. “I wonder what she’s gonna want from master in return for being nice,” he mutters under his breath and Erik groans unhappily. He fucking knew it. Well, there’s no going back now. He only hopes the books will have been worth it.

He can’t bring himself to feel too bad, though, as he piles them neatly next to master’s book. Taking the first one from the pile, he makes himself comfortable in a nest of pillows on the bed and starts reading.

\--°°--

Gabriel opens yet another emails and starts typing a reply one-handedly. It’s a slow going but his other hand is busy playing with the long smooth strands of Erik’s hair. They’re lounging in the living room and Gabriel’s put on some documentary about deep sea creatures as a background noise.

Erik seems enraptured by it though. About half an hour into the program, he laid down, placing his head in Gabriel’s lap, but his attention is fully on the screen.

Gabriel smiles down from his phone at the boy. He’s so glad he’s still so affectionate even after the last punishment. Probably even more so. At first Gabriel took it for gratitude for the art supplies he got him but it seems the more comfortable in Gabriel’s presence he gets, the more his tactile, sweet side shines through.

Gabriel would hate to lose it. Sure, he enjoys pushing Erik and his reluctance makes the eventual submission all the sweeter but he doesn’t want to actually break him. He likes his snarky remarks sometimes and his spirit. As long as it’s not over the line, of course.

And going to Hanna’s room was way over that line. There was no doubt he needed to be punished for that. Though there was a moment when Gabriel wondered if he was too harsh on him. Towards the end he looked like he was nearing the end of his endurance and while Gabriel didn’t want to go back on his word, he would have probably called an end to it if Erik hadn’t caught onto his little help with number.

He would never probably admit it out loud, but he is shamefully relieved the boy doesn’t resent him and he’s been spoiling a bit more than usually lately.

The doorbell rings and Gabriel smiles. Right on time.

“Tell him to wait in my office, we’ll be right there,” Gabriel says to Dennis as he walks past them to get the door.

At that, Erik turns his head to give Gabriel a confused look and Gabriel pats his ass, pausing the movie.

“Come on, up.”

“I was watching that, master,” Erik grumbles and Gabriel kisses the pout off his lips.

“We’ll finish it later. Come on now, this is a surprise for you.”

“Why do I have a bad feeling about that,” he mutters and Gabriel grins. He can’t really blame the boy for being less than enthusiastic about Gabriel’s surprises.

He still follows him obediently into his office, though his steps falter when he sees the man waiting for them.

“Thank you for coming. It’s Chris, right?” Gabriel smiles as he shakes the man’s tattooed arm. Gabriel’s never met him before in person but he’s come highly recommended as the best tattoo artist and piercer in town. And he looks the part, too, with tattoos on every part of the skin visible and multiple piercings in his ears and nose. He’s a good head taller than Gabriel with broad shoulders and an impressive beard and Gabriel can feel Erik press closer to him, hiding behind his back.

“No problem at all,” he smiles easily and then nods towards Erik. “That him?”

“Oh, yes,” Gabriel nudges Erik forward with a hand on his back. Only Erik’s stiff as a board and he digs his heels, his face pale and eyes wide.

“Master,” Erik pleads, alarmed, but Gabriel shushes him.

“I have the jewelry here,” Gabriel walks around the table and hands a small box to Chris, who opens it and nods appreciatively.

“Nice choice. Just these, then?”

“Yes. For now,” he smiles and looks at Erik, who looks as if he’s about to bolt, his eyes flicking between him and Chris fearfully. “Where do you want him?”

“Here by the window would be good,” Chris indicates and starts to get ready. He snaps on a black pair of gloves and sets up his black suitcase with tools while Gabriel wheels his black office chair closer.

“It’s okay,” Gabriel affectionately strokes Erik’s cheek, who is still standing frozen in the middle of the room. “Now be a good boy and go sit over there.”

With one last pleading look at Gabriel, he reluctantly drags his feet closer. He takes one look at the needles and shakes his head desperately.

“Nope. Master, please,” he backs away. He crosses his arms protectively over his chest and Gabriel can’t but huff a laugh when he understands the boy’s fear.

“Oh, relax, it’s not your nipples that are getting pierced.”

The words have the opposite effect than Gabriel expected. Instead of calming down, his face goes another shade paler and his arms go down to cup his crotch as he gives Gabriel a look of utter horror.

“Your ears!” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “You’re getting your ears pierced.”

“Oh.”

Finally he lets his hands fall down to his sides and some of the color returns to his face. He still doesn’t move, though, and Gabriel raises his eyebrows meaningfully.

“Now!” he orders sternly and that finally gets him to move. He plops into the chair, gripping the armrests, and closes his eyes, breathing raggedly through his nose.

He flinches when Chris takes his earlobe in his fingers but then goes absolutely still, only tensing a little when Chris swabs the area.

“Take a deep breath,” Chris instructs and then smoothly presses the needle in. Erik barely winces at the pain and his eyes open in surprise. In quick professional movements, Chris puts in the golden earring Gabriel has bought.

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” Gabriel asks and Erik shakes his head.

“No, master,” he mumbles reluctantly and Gabriel chuckles

Chris moves to the other side then and in less than a couple of minutes, both earrings are in and he hands Gabriel a small hand-held mirror.

“Look at you, pet, you look lovely.”

Erik turns his head from side to side, inspecting the earrings. They’re simple rings made of gold, each fitted with tiny diamonds that sparkle brilliantly as they catch the light. They look good on him and Gabriel can tell he likes them too, as much as he probably hates to admit it.

“Do you like them?” Gabriel pushes, enjoying making him say it out loud.

“Yes, Master.”

“What do you say, then?”

“Thank you, master,” he says softly and his cheeks turn a nice pink color.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Thank you, Chris. I’ll definitely contact you if I need anything again,” Gabriel winks at Erik, who doesn’t look too amused.

“It was my pleasure,” Chris bids his goodbye.

Once their alone, Gabriel takes Erik’s face in his hand, admiring.

“Beautiful,” he hums.

“You always say that, master,” Erik grumbles and Gabriel chuckles.

“Right. But now you’re even more beautiful. Do you want to finish the movie?”

Erik nods gratefully and they go back to the living room. Once again, he curls under a blanket with his head on Gabriel’s lap, his hand going up to touch the rings.

“Leave them be,” Gabriel swats his hands away and then softens. “Did it hurt much?”

“No,” Erik admits with a sigh. “I just… really don’t like needles.”

“Aw,” Gabriel coos. “You were very brave though. My good boy. That deserves a reward, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do I get to choose the reward, master?” Erik mumbles, tiredly, and Gabriel snorts. Slouching a bit on the couch, he easily reaches down under the blanket and snakes his hand under the waistband of his pants, taking hold of Erik’s cock. The boy pursues his lips, his eyes flicking to the open door, before stubbornly going back to watching the TV.

Oh yes. The living room a central room and the house is bustling with activity with one of the other slaves walking past the door frequently. Not to mention if anyone wants to go to the garden, they have to go through here.

He still can’t help but react to Gabriel’s touch and soon he hardens and his breathing picks up, as much as he tries to hide it. Gabriel takes his time, stroking him in slow, lazy movements, until eventually he loses his battle and closes his eyes, moaning softly.

He’s getting close, Gabriel can tell just from the sounds he makes. That’s when he catches a glimpse of Jerry walking down the hall and he smiles. Perfect timing.

“Jerry!” he calls. “Come here for a moment.”

Erik goes absolutely rigid, his eyes growing wide. Gabriel stops jerking him but keeps hold of his dick. This way, there’s no way anyone can tell what’s going on under the blanket.

“Master?” the boy asks nervously. He stops few feet away, bowing his head respectfully and clasping his hands behind his back. Oh, sweet, obedient Jerry. Sometimes Gabriel forgets the boy’s here. He’s barely seen or heard but he works hard and never causes any problems. After the fiasco the last and only time he took him to the bedroom, he quickly learned it’s best to just leave him to his own devices as he tends to get jumpy whenever he’s as much as in the same room as Gabriel.

“Did you order the new mower?” he asks. He doesn’t really care, he has Dennis to keep track of all these things, he just wants to have a bit of fun with Erik. Keeping his hand still, he starts rubbing his thumb over the sensitive spot just under the head of Erik’s dick. The boy’s breath hitches even as he valiantly continues to pretend he’s watching the TV.

“Yes, master,” Jerry answer, frowning slightly in confusion at the question.

“And did you call someone to have a look at the gate?”

He continues to casually question him about mundane things for good five minutes while playing with Erik in tiny movements under the blanket, enjoying the increasing desperation with which he digs his fingers into Gabriel’s thigh.

When he finally takes mercy on the boy and dismisses Jerry, it takes but one stroke for Erik to finish and he spurts hot come all over Gabriel’s hand before Jerry’s steps have even faded away. Gabriel wipes his hand on Erik’s shirt, chuckling at the heated glare Erik throws over his shoulder.

“How was that a reward, master?”

“Are you complaining?” Gabriel smiles, a hint of warning in his tone.

“No,” Erik pursues his lips. “Thank you, master,” he grits out. It doesn’t sound the least bit sincere but it’s good enough.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now go wash up and change.”

Reluctantly, Erik throws the blanket aside and gets up. Scrunching up his nose at the jizz all over his clothes, he quickly pads out of the room. He’s back not long after, wearing new pants and shirt, and he curls back on the couch.

“Can I finish the movie now, master?” he asks and Gabriel smiles.

“Alright, sure,” he unpauses the TV and leans back to watch with him.


	15. Chapter 15

Erik closes his eyes, putting his face directly under the warm shower spray. No matter how many showers he’s taken since he got here, it never ceased to amaze him how amazing it feels. Such a simple thing, really. But after four years of feeling gritty and sticky all the time, with cold showers once a week just to keep it griminess at a bearable level, he will never stop appreciating being clean.

The shower door opens and Erik flinches. The next moment, master’s strong arms wrap around him and Erik has to focus on not tensing. The moment of peace is over, he guesses.

“Wash me,” master orders, handing him a loofah. Erik lathers it with soap and gets to work. It’s kind of nice, actually, gently scrubbing it over every inch of master’s perfectly sculptured body. He has to stand on tiptoes to wash his hair and he manages to get shampoo in master’s eyes in the process. He just laughs, though, and dunks under the water.

He seems to be in a good mood today, Erik notes, relieved. Some days it’s clear he’s distracted, always on his phone and distant; on those days Erik has learned to expect a quick, rough fuck from master that leaves him aching for the rest of the day or quick blow-job. Today, though, master seems to be in no hurry.

“Don’t bother,” master stops him when he reaches for his clothes as they get out of the shower. “I’ve got a bit of time today,” he says as he leads him to the bedroom, confirming his thoughts.

“Lie on the bed,” he points and Erik watches him nervously as he kicks a large box closer to the bed. It’s where master keeps all his “toys”, Erik knows, but he keeps it carefully locked all the time so it’s not like he got to snoop around it.

With a resigned sigh, he lies flat on his back, watching the ceiling. His traitorous dick is already half hard, anticipation thrumming under his skin. Erik finds the first step is always the hardest. It’s when he still feels he should revolt, when the fact that he voluntary lies on the bed, or takes off his clothes, or kneels between master’s legs, makes his stomach turn and his skin crawl. It gets easier, though, as pleasure takes over. It’s as if a switch flips in his mind and he accepts he has no control over the situation whatsoever. And the more he gives in, the easier it is to let go. Sometimes it feels like waking up from a dream, dazed and dizzy, and he’s always immensely grateful that so far, master has always held him afterwards until he gets back down.

Master cuffs both his hands and then threads a length of rope through the d-rings and ties the ends to the posts of the bed. He repeats the same with his legs, until he’s spread-eagle and completely immobile. Master pulls on the ropes, tightening them until Erik’s muscles start to burn with the stretch. Erik can’t move an inch, or even squirm or thrash and it makes him feel even more vulnerable.

Next, master takes a simple black blindfold and secures it behind Erik’s head, plunging him into absolute darkness. Immediately, his breath picks up with fear, the loss of his sight throwing his off more than he expected.

“Master?” he whines, sounding small even to his own ears.

“Shh, it’s okay,” master touches his thigh reassuringly and he flinches, not expecting it. Already his skin is prickling, hyper sensitive. Master runs his hand up and down his legs and his chest, playing with his nipples, pinching them between his fingers, and soon Erik’s panting, fully hard, even though master has determinedly avoided touching his dick so far.

The bed shifts as master gets up and Erik turns his head, blinking desperately under the blindfold. Oh, he hates not being able to see what’s going on so much.

When he’s back a moment later, Erik can hear a soft clinking of metal too. Master’s back to teasing his nipple and the next moment something cold, metal and _sharp_ snaps on his sensitive nub. He has barely time to understand what’s going on before pain explodes on his chest, punching all breath out of him.

“Oh, motherfu… jesus fucking christ!” he swears, pulling uselessly at his bindings even as the pain slowly starts to eb to a more bearable level. Master chuckles and gets up again, returning shortly and cupping Erik’s face in his hand.

“As much as I like the sounds you make… open up.”

Something is pressed against his mouth and with a stab of panic, Erik realizes it’s a gag. He shakes his desperately.

“No, master please, I’ll shut up, please!”

Master only digs his fingers into Erik’s cheeks, hard, prying his mouth open. He pushes the ball behind Erik’s teeth and locks the gag behind his head carefully, making sure not to pinch his hair in the buckle, the gentle gesture a stark contrast to master’s action.

Now completely at master’s mercy, tears well up in Erik’s eyes, and tries to swallow around the gag. It doesn’t really work and with a sinking heart he realizes he’s going to drool pretty soon.

Master gives him a moment to settle, keeping a steadying hand on his chest, and it does help. After a while, he’s able to push the panic down and his breathing slows down.

“There you go. You’re being so good for me. I’m here and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you, okay?”

Erik clings to the words like a lifeline. He still tenses when master pinches his other nipple and he holds his breath. It’s harder, now that he knows what to expect. He hears the clinging of metal again and then groans around the ball as the clamp shuts down on his nipple.

This time, though, master immediately starts stroking his dick. Erik feels like he’d going crazy, his brain unable to choose whether to focus on the pain or the pleasure. Again, the sharp pain eases to a dull throbbing that is easier to ignore.

Master gets some lube and continues to stroke him, while his thumb gently massages the spot inside him that makes his toes curl. It’s nice, not quite enough to come yet, but the pleasure keeps building steadily.

Another sounds of metal clinging and Erik opens his eyes under the blindfold in alarm, cursing internally when all he sees is impermeable darkness. He shakes his head, mumbling his pleas against the gag, but it’s of no use, of course. Master’s already pinching the skin in his underarm and attaches the clamp.

Somehow it’s even worse than his nipples and Erik keens and pants for a long time, before the pain fades. Master wastes no time attaching another one under his other arm and then goes back to teasing him. This time he brings him to the edge in strong, purposeful strokes but before Erik can get his hopes up, he lets go off him, the clinging of more clamps making Erik’s stomach sink in despair.

It goes like this for a long time. Soon enough there are clamps under his arms, on the insides of his thighs and the sides of his chest and stomach. His whole body is throbbing with pain and yet he’s still going mad with pleasure as master jerks him off. He needs to come, like right fucking now, yet master reads him like a book, always letting go at the last possible moment.

When once again he hears more clamps being taken out, he’s actually kind of glad he’s gagged because he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from calling master some colorful names. As it is, all he can do is sob behind the gag, shaking his head desperately.

“Last two,” master promises. “You can do two more. You’re doing great.”

Erik begs to disagree on that. He bites on gag, steeling himself. The pain from the last two clamps hasn’t even faded yet before master frees his legs and roughly lifts his hips. He buries his dick inside Erik with one strong thrust that barely registers among the fiery pain from the clamps and then starts fucking him hard.

As always though, the pain numbs after a while and Erik actually starts to enjoy it. When master takes hold of his dick, he throws his head back, feeling his orgasm once again building in his guts.

“Whenever you want, sweetheart,” master pants, jerking him in rhythm with his fast, hard thrusts.

Just as he’s about to come, master uses his other hand to yank off all the clamps, one after the other, throwing them on the floor. Erik screams, the pain from blood returning to his abused skin together with his orgasm combining into one overwhelming mix sensation, frying all his nerve endings.

He must have blacked out for a bit because the next thing he knows, he can move again and master’s lying next to him, watching him with an amused expression. That’s when he realizes he can see again and the ball gag is gone too.

He feels completely drained; aching and hurting, yet still buzzing with pleasure and floating pleasantly. Master smiles at him and Erik melts a bit. He’s so pretty when he smiles. And so very kind to him, holding him close and petting his hair gently when he could have just kicked him out of the bed and sent him away.

He cuddles close, sighing contently. In the back of his mind he has a feeling he hated master just a short while ago but can’t really remember why.

Unfortunately, his high doesn’t last forever. Soon he starts to get restless, the cooling sweat making him shiver and the drying cum on his stomach starting to flake, making him feel disgusting. He sits up, prodding his fingers at the angry red marks all over his body and looks at the mean-looking metal clamps scattered over the floor. Right. So that’s why.

“What?” master laughs when he sees him frown. “Didn’t you enjoy that?”

“No,” Erik pouts and master chuckles.

“I don’t know, seemed to me you enjoyed yourself plenty. And besides, you’re so pretty when you’re in pain.”

Master gets up, pressing one last kiss on the top of Erik’s head. “Go wash up and get dressed. I need to grab something from the office, you’re coming with me.”

\--°°--

Gabriel runs into Hanna just as they’re getting in the car. She’s coming back from a morning jog, her hair pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head, sweaty strands falling into her face, yet her makeup is still impeccable.

“Where are you going?” she asks casually, as she stretches her legs.

“Work, believe it or not,” Gabriel smiles.

“Is it take-your-slave-to-work day?” she asks, her eyes going to Erik, who’s already waiting in the car.

Gabriel just rolls his eyes, ready to get a move on, when she stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Wait. Actually there’s something I wanted to ask you. We have this project at the university and you know how you promised I could borrow Erik for a while?”

“Did I?” Gabriel asks, unimpressed, knowing all too well he promised no such thing.

“Well, yeah, basically. You said I have to wait until he’s more settled and it’s been like two months, so…” she flashes her best smile at him and he sighs.

“Hanna,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, glancing at Erik, who is now watching them, eyebrows drawn in confusion. When he catches Gabriel’s eyes, he quickly looks back down.

“Gabe, please. I promise I’ll be nice. It’s just a few hours in my studio, nothing more. And I did lend him all the books, you know,” she reminds him not-so-subtly and Gabriel rolls his eyes.

“Alright! I’ll think about it, okay?”

She grins, knowing she’s already won, and smacks a kiss on his cheek before going back inside. Gabriel sighs. He really does not like the idea of letting Erik out of his sight but at the same time, it’s his baby sister. He has a soft spot for her, always has. She was just a kid when their parents died and it fell upon Gabriel to take care of her. And he’s probably been spoiling her too much but he hasn’t really been able to deny her anything.

Erik watches him warily when Gabriel joins him in the car but doesn’t say anything, as much he’d clearly like to ask. Without another word, Gabriel starts the car and heads downtown.

Erik watches the skyscraper with wide eyes, plastered on the window to get a better view, as they make their way into the underground parking. Gabriel kills the engine and turns to Erik, who’s nibbling at the nail of his thumb.

“Stop that,” Gabriel admonishes him and the boy flinches, stuffing his hands under his thighs.

“Sorry, master,” he mutters and Gabriel studies him for a bit.

“You look nervous,” he notes. “We’re just going to the office, it won’t take long.”

“I, uh. I don’t wanna like, do something stupid in front of your… colleagues,” he says uncomfortably, watching him uncertainly and Gabriel feels a stab of sympathy for him. Being locked up in a factory for years, it’s not that weird that he doesn’t know how to behave properly in public and is afraid of making a mistake.

“All you need to do is follow my orders. Keep your eyes down, don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, stay close to me and you’ll be fine. I’m not going to let anyone touch you or anything,” he promises, patting his leg encouragingly, and Erik gives a little smile.

“Okay, master.”

“Let’s go, then.”

\--°°--

Keeping his eyes down is much harder than he imagined when they step out of the elevator into a huge atrium bustling with life. He locks his eyes on the heels of master’s leather shoes and follows him as he walks surely through the hall.

They go to another elevator, a private one, clearly, as Gabriel uses a card to make it go up. Erik’s stomach drops at the speed of the elevator and his ears pop but it takes a surprisingly short time before they reach the top.

At least Erik thinks they’re at the top. He catches a glimpse of the view through the window and his heads spins a little. Oh my god, they really are high.

The top floor is much quieter than the ground level, with only a few people walking around, talking cheerily among each other. They greet master easily and no one says anything about Erik, though he feels their stares burn into him.

Master leads him to what must be his office. It’s not unlike what he has at home, only the wall behind his desk is made of glass with a breath-taking view of the city and the ocean beneath them. Before Erik can get more than a glimpse, though, master sits down and snaps his finger, indicating the spot next to him.

Erik goes to kneel down, settling in a comfortable position. He can’t see anything but the rug and the underside of the desk. Master keeps typing on the computer and soon enough, Erik starts to get restless.

This is stupid. He spends all days inside the house and when he finally gets to go outside, he doesn’t even get to look around. Or enjoy the view. Fuck, he really does want to look outside of that window.

It could always be worse, he tells himself even as he feels his mood plummet. At least master doesn’t want him to suck him off under the table or something. It’s little consolation though, and his frown deepens.

A loud knock on the door brings him from his dark thoughts and a moment later a man enters.

“Here you go,” he says, slapping what sounds like a folder on the desk. “I included the—whoah. What do you have here?” he asks and Erik glares harder into the floor. “I didn’t know you got yourself a boy.”

“Yeah,” master chuckles, petting Erik’s hair affectionately. “A pretty one, isn’t he? I didn’t really plan on getting one but I’m quite fond of him, I must say.”

Something warm spreads in Erik’s chest at those words, battling with the feeling of indignation at being talked about like that.

“Can I see?” the man asks and master snaps his fingers, gesturing for him to get up. He nudges him to walk around the table and stand in front of the stranger. With a beating heart, Erik stops a few feet away, clasping his hands behind his back, his head down. All he sees is another pair of polished shoes, not unlike those of master.

“Aw, such a delicate little thing. He’d look so good with my boy, wouldn’t you say? Oh, we should totally arrange something!”

“Hm,” master hums, considering, and Erik struggles to keep his face blank as fear makes his heart thump even louder. “I’m not too keen on sharing him, to be honest. But you should come over, absolutely. It’s been too long.”

“Great. Just let me know when, then.”

“Sure. And thanks for the contract.”

When the other man leaves, Erik stays frozen on the spot, unsure how to feel. On one hand, he is relieved master doesn’t want to share him. But at the same time, they are still coming over. What if he changes his mind? Oh god, he doesn’t _want_ to get fucked by some other slave.

“Come back here,” master orders and Erik makes his numb legs move, kneeling back next to master’s chair. “I just need five more minutes.”

Erik doesn’t even care anymore about not seeing anything from this new, exciting place. He’s way too worried, his mind keeps running a million different scenarios, one worse than the other and he doesn’t even notice that master’s turned off the computer.

“Alright, come here,” master gestures for him to get up. Instead of leaving like Erik expected, he goes to stand by the window, watching Erik expectantly. “Don’t you wanna see?” he asks when Erik doesn’t move and Erik feels a spike of excitement as he hurries to him.

Master hugs him from behind as Erik takes in the view below them. It’s dizzying. Like he’s on top of the world, like he could just spread his arms and fly.

“This is incredible, master,” Erik breathes out.

“Isn’t it? Look there, that’s downtown, it’s where the malls is,” master points and Erik follows his finger with his eyes. He still doesn’t know, which building he means but it doesn’t matter. “There’s the beach and that way is where our home is, you can’t really see it. But here,” master reaches to a drawer and takes out a pair of binoculars. “Have a look.”

Erik looks through the binoculars, letting out a giggle. “I can see the people down there!” he exclaims excitedly. He feels like a kid on Christmas. Well, better, considering he’s never gotten a Christmas present in his life.

Master lets him look through the binoculars for close to an hour. Erik looks at the people eating breakfasts in the coffee shops on the street, watches a bunch of kids run around a park, even sees some people shout at each other, gesturing wildly to their cars that bumped into each other in an intersection.

There’s so much to see and Erik feels he could watch all day. When master gently takes the binoculars from his hand, he feels a pang of disappointment but swallows it down.

“Thank you, master,” he says instead and master gives him one of his warm smiles.

“Let’s go, then,” he says and Erik follows him back to the car.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik spends some quality time with mistress.

Erik takes a breath and timidly knocks on the door mistress’ studio. Earlier today, master told him he’s to go to mistress’ studio for the afternoon, not really explaining anything, with a warning ‘to behave.’ He wishes master would at least tell him what to expect. He guesses he’ll find out soon enough, though.

When he steps inside, Erik’s surprised to see mistress is standing by the easel, wearing denim overalls covered with old paint stains, and she’s setting up her brushes.

“Alright, come here,” she points to the middle of the room where a place has been cleared to form some sort of a stage. Suddenly, Erik remembers Tracy’s words about Jerry having to pose for mistress and he feels weirdly relieved. He can do that.

Mistress pulls a rubber band from her wrist and takes Erik’s hair, tying it to a messy bun. Her touch has none of the warmth and gentleness of master but she isn’t necessarily rough either. She smirks when she notices his earrings and inspects them, turning them in her fingers.

“Are those diamonds? You must be one hell of fuck,” she shakes her head and Erik feels his cheeks turn red.

“Take off your clothes,” she orders once Erik’s hair is out of the way and Erik sighs. Not that he didn’t expect it. He starts folding the clothes in a neat pile but she just kicks them away, muttering, “don’t bother.”

With a loud thud, she drops a box next to him and takes out a bright red length of rope.

“This is gonna take a while,” she warns and turns him around.

Erik tries to go pliant under her touch, he really does, but she doesn’t give any verbal commands and it’s hard to guess what exactly she wants from him as she impatiently yanks at his arms. Eventually, he gets the hint and crosses his arms behind his back, wrists to elbows, his forearm parallel to each other and she starts binding them.

She twists the rope around his arms in a complicated pattern, pulling it _tight._ Soon enough his fingers start to tingle but he bites his lip and doesn’t say anything.

It does feel like forever before she’s done with his arms. She keeps adjusting the rope to be spaced perfectly, redoes some of the knots multiple times before she’s happy with them, and by the time she moves away, Erik’s shoulders are already aching from the strain.

When she grabs more rope and starts to create similar patterns across his chest, Erik focuses on his breathing and tries to keep his mind blank. She ties the rope around his chest tightly too and he feels it digging into his skin with every shallow breath he takes.

Pushing him to lie down on the hard floor, she bends one of his legs and ties it thigh to calve. The other one she leaves free and then pushes the box with ropes away. Erik’s relief is short-lived though, as she hooks something between his shoulder blades and then presses a button on the wall, spurting a winding mechanism to life with a loud whir.

He is lifted off the ground until his foot barely touches the floor and he desperately struggles for purchase. If he lets his whole weight hang from the ceiling, the pressure on his chest gets almost too much, making it hard to breathe, but when he balances on the ball of his foot, his calf muscles immediately start to burn.

Clearly oblivious to his discomfort, mistress takes off the rubber band and starts brushing his hair. She spends a good half an hour just arranging every strand to fall down exactly the way she wants, using a shitload of hair spray that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and Erik just wants to shout at her to _get on with it._

When fucking finally she’s happy with his hair, Erik wants nothing more than to get out of there and she hasn’t even started painting yet.

“Final touch,” she grins and reaches down between his legs, jerking his dick off.

“Mistress!” Erik squeaks in surprise and confusion.

“Come on, get hard for me,” she orders as she continues to stroke him in clinical movements. There’s absolutely nothing arousing about this whole situation but Erik closes his eyes and tries to focus. He tries imagining it’s master but her hand is way too small and she’s doing it all wrong. In the end it’s with the use of sheer willpower, motivated by wanting this over with, that he manages to get an erection. She then ties a short rope around his balls and the base of his dick.

“Do not go soft on me,” she warns as she goes to her easel.

Erik tries to go away in his mind and it works for a while. Soon enough though, the pain in his trembling calf and in his shoulders and his numb fingers—everywhere, really—brings him back to reality. He counts back from hundred in his head and then tries to entertain himself by looking around, as much as his tight bondage allows, but it’s hard to keep up his curiosity when all his mental energy seems to be consumed by trying to get enough oxygen to his body through his shallow breaths.

Mistress, on the other hand, seems completely lost in her work. Erik can’t see what she’s painting but he she’s frowning slightly at the easel, tilting her head and nibbling at the end of her brush. When she takes the canvas down and takes a new one to start anew, Erik wants to weep.

Several hours and three canvases later, mistress throws the brush down and Erik feels a stab of hope through the haze of pain.

“Let’s take a break, shall we?”

Pressing the button again, she lowers him down until his whole foot touches the floor and he lets out a breath, his abused muscles screaming in pain from the change of position. That’s all she does, though, and Erik watches her desperately as she walks away.

He hears the grounding of coffee beans somewhere in the studio behind him and soon the delicious waft of freshly brewed coffee makes his mouth water. Or it would, if he had any saliva to spare. As thirsty as he is, he only swallows dryly, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

She sits down in a large armchair, kicking her feet up. She sips her coffee and eats her croissant while studying the canvases lined up against the wall and ignores Erik completely.

The sound of her chewing is grating his ears, making his stomach grumble painfully, but Erik pays it no mind. It’s fine. He’s not really hungry. He ate lunch, after all. This is not hunger, not like the all-consuming hollowness he experienced in the factory.

Erik is relieved when she brushed the crumbs of her pants and gets up. She lifts him up again and this time, it’s even harder to find the energy to hold himself up. Also, his erection has flagged a little and mistress clucks her tongue, giving him a few annoyed strokes to get him hard again.

More hours drag by and Erik is sweating, panting, biting his lips hard to keep himself from begging. His fingers no longer hurt, his whole hand just feels numb and cold, and that terrifies Erik to no end.

“Mistress,” he whines, losing his battle eventually.

“Hm?” she asks distractedly from her easel.

“Please…,” he rasps out desperately. He doesn’t even have the energy to put in words what he wants.

“What? I’m not done yet. Plus, I always like a bit of anguish in my paintings,” she exclaims cheerfully and continues painting, unperturbed.

To be honest, it probably doesn’t take all that long afterward, but his fear and the pain make every minute feel like an eternity. It does end eventually, though. Mistress takes all the canvases away, locking them in an adjacent room and then just… leaves.

The sudden silence is suffocating and Erik feels tears roll down his cheeks, unbidden. Where did she go? Why the hell did she leave him here? Did he not do a good enough job? And where is master? Why hasn’t he come for him yet?

Feeling the panic and despair drag him down, he lets out a broken sob. That’s when the door opens again. It’s not mistress, though, and Erik blinks through the tears in surprise when he sees Jerry quietly slip in.

“Get out of here, you’ll get yourself in trouble,” he sniffles.

“It’s okay, she sent me to get you down,” he assures him quietly. His mouth is set in a tight line and he wastes no time lowering Erik all the way down, until he can slump lifelessly onto the floor. He then makes a quick work of untying him, loosening the knots with ease and pulling the rope away.

“Oh, fuck!” Erik groans as blood returns to his fingers, making his hand tingle painfully. “Fucking hell!”

“I know,” Jerry winces sympathetically. “The hands are always the worst.”

He takes Erik’s hands in his and starts deftly massaging his palms and fingers. It fucking hurts but soon most of the feeling returns to his hands.

“Um, do you—Should I…?” Jerry stutters, his cheeks turning red as he gestures to Erik’s crotch and Erik shakes his head.

“I’ll do it,” he mutters as he quickly gets rid of the rope around his balls and dick, even though his fingers are still clumsy. “There.”

Jerry reaches behind him and only now does Erik notice he brought a blanket with him. He throws it over his shoulders and Erik pulls it closer, grateful for the warmth as he starts to inexplicably shake, his teeth clattering.

“Here,” Jerry hands him a bottle of water and Erik gulps it down, sputtering in the process. They then sit side by side in silence for a long time. Jerry waits patiently for Erik to calm down and catch his breath. He doesn’t say anything but his mere presence is grounding and Erik focuses on the single point of contact where his shoulder is pressed to Erik’s.

“Thank you,” he says finally, turning to Jerry who gives him a sad smile.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Erik puts on a smile and stretches his shoulders. He does feel a bit more like himself again. If anything, he’s ashamed he broke down like this. He doesn’t want Jerry to see him like this. “And by the way, you were right.”

“I was?” Jerry asks, confused.

“Yeah. Mistress’ studio is not cool at all. I take everything back.”

Jerry snorts and Erik feels his smile slip away.

“Is this what she had you do? When she bought you?”

“How—Tracy told you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Erik admits sheepishly. “But that must have sucked so much. I’m sorry.”

“I thought I was lucky,” Jerry shrugs uneasily. “It was so much better than what I had before. I had food and my own bed and there wasn’t…I mean, I so wanted to please her. And it only took her like two weeks to want to get rid of me. _That_ sucked.”

Erik heart aches for him and he wraps his arm over his shoulder, pulling him closer.

“But she didn’t,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down Jerry’s arm.

“Right. But only because master put his foot down. And she hates that, not getting her way. I’m pretty sure she hates having me around to remind her of that. But that’s not… Why are we talking about me again?” he huffs incredulously.

Erik laughs and gets up on unsteady feet. “We should probably get out of here.”

In painfully slow movements, he puts on his clothes again and they make their way out, Erik only limping a little. They run into mistress in the hall and she shoos Jerry away, sending him back to work. Once they’re alone, she pulls up his sleeves inspecting the rope marks on his body.

“You are to go to my brother’s bedroom right away. He will ask you how it was and you will say it was okay and I was very kind to you, won’t you? Or you can say goodbye to any more books from me.”

“Yes, mistress,” he mutters, looking away.

“Good,” she lets go off him. “Now go!”

He is surprised by how dark it is outside by the time he drags himself upstairs. He really must have been there the whole afternoon. And probably missed dinner, he realizes bitterly, as he knocks on the bedroom door.

Master looks him up and down as he enters and then pulls him in for a hug. Erik hugs him back with all his might, stupidly feeling his eyes well up again.

“Oh, sweetheart,” master sighs in his ear as he pets his hair. “Ew. Did she use hairspray on you? I hate that stuff. You’re taking a shower. But first, you gotta eat something.”

Once again, Erik is handed a plate with an enormous sandwich and he’s overwhelmed with gratitude for master’s thoughtfulness.

“Take your time,” master says as he disappears into the bathroom and Erik slides down on the floor and hungrily bites down into the food.

He’s just getting uncomfortably full when master’s back, his sleeves rolled up. “Done?” he asks, and Erik nods. “Come on then.”

Erik follows him listlessly into the bathroom. He’s exhausted, he’d much rather go straight to bed, but he gets master doesn’t want him to get hairspray all over his bedsheets.

Automatically he heads for the shower but master stops him, instead steering him towards a bathtub with hot steaming water.

“Thought you could use a bath,” master says as he helps him out of his clothes. Immediately, his face darkens when he sees the rope marks criss-crossing pretty much his entire body. He pokes his finger into one, inspecting the damage.

“Was it bad?” he asks.

“It was okay, master,” he recites in monotone. “Mistress was very kind to me.”

Weirdly, Gabriel lets out a bark of laugh and Erik flinches. “She wouldn’t happen to tell you to say that, would she?” he smirks. When Erik doesn’t answer, he sighs and shakes his head. “Get in the water.”

The water is a bit on the too-hot side and Erik hisses as he dips his toes in. Soon he gets used to the temperature, though, and he leans back with a sigh, feeling the knots in his muscles loosen up already. The smell of eucalyptus tickles his nose. Master went a bit heavy on the bath salts, apparently.

Master sits on a stool next to the tub and takes a cup. He pours water over Erik’s hair, shielding his eyes from the water with the other hand.

“I know this wasn’t much fun, but you’ve been very good for me. I’m very pleased with you.”

Erik closes his eyes, allowing himself to relish the words for a moment. Fuck, he does _not_ wanna cry again, he curses internally when he feels his eyes sting. Or maybe it’s just the bath salts, he tells himself.

It takes almost half of the shampoo bottle to get all the hairspray out and by the time master’s done, Erik’s fingers are all wrinkled and the water is getting lukewarm. Master wraps him in one of his enormous towels and leads him back to the bedroom.

“I got you something,” master smiles. “I know you have your sketchbook and everything but I won’t be home much next week and I don’t want you to get too bored.”

He hands him something black and slim and it takes a while for Erik’s tired brain to click and realize it’s a laptop.

“It’s fully set up and connected to the internet. Some things are restricted and everything you do on there is monitored and I _will_ be checking but other than that, knock yourself out.”

“I… thank you, master,” Erik says, eyeing the device in his hands uncertainly. He’s not even sure what to do on it and has little to none experience with the internet but it’s gotta be better than nothing. “Thank you,” he says again, this time striving to sound more sincere.

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Erik hasn’t heard sweeter words in a long time. He quickly drops the towel and curls into a ball under the soft sheets, feeling himself fall asleep almost immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, just wanted to say, if you ever wanted to contact me directly, feel free to message me at discord, I'm paxterhobber#1820 or come say hi at my own server: https://discord.gg/zTf4Yjw. I'm saying this because recently I found out someone messaged me at tumblr and I didn't get the notification and as I don't go there anymore, I felt sad I missed it and wasn't able to respond. I'm on discord basically all the time, so you can definitely reach me there if you ever want to. Take care!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik tries to rebel a little and fails. He also has a chat with Dennis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the longer wait but real life was hectic and also my motivation and inspiration are pretty fickle. 
> 
> I have a discord now, I even set up a channel for prompts and requests, feel free to come say hi: https://discord.gg/zTf4Yjw

True to his words, master spends most of the next week at work. He leaves long before Erik wakes up and comes late in the evening and then closes himself in his office for the rest of the day. On some days he’s so tired he just falls dead in the bed and is asleep right away, on others he still fucks Erik, grabbing his hair and thrusting so hard the bed would probably shake if it wasn’t such a monstrous, sturdy thing. He then usually collapses next to him, murmuring, “my good boy” before falling asleep.

On one hand, Erik misses master’s affection and the cuddles and the way he looks at him as he’s the most beautiful thing in the world. On the other hand, though, he is glad for the respite. He gets to eat his meals at the table, listening to Tracy’s over-the-top stories, sometimes even catching Jerry during his break and having a peaceful meal in quiet together. He definitely doesn’t miss being on his knees, being fed from master’s fingers.

He also doesn’t miss being tied up and hurt for master’s amusement, though the orgasms were kind of worth it. As it is, he hasn’t come in days and is starting to get a bit frustrated. Not that he is going to complain. No way. He has learned his lesson and does _not_ want that vibrator thing near his ass ever again.

But when he wakes up in the morning, alone once again, he’s rock hard and thrumming with the need to come. Lavishly he stretches and then lazily, still half-asleep, starts to rock his hips against the soft sheets, the friction sending waves of pleasure all the way down his toes.

It takes a while for his brain to register what he’s doing but when he does, all pleasure is replaced by ice-cold fear and he freezes. He’s not allowed to touch himself! He sits up, bundling the covers to hide his boner, while looking around guiltily. His heart is pounding in his chest and only after a moment he remembers he’s alone.

He listens to the quiet from inside the house and his fear is suddenly replaced by anger. Fuck that. Master’s at work and he’s going to be there for many more hours. There is absolutely no chance he could get caught. He’s going to jerk off and he’s going to enjoy it because he fucking deserves it.

He’s still not stupid enough to actually do it in the bed. He hobbles across to the room the en-suite bathroom and closes the door behind him. There’s no lock, of course, and Erik looks around for anything he could use to block the door, biting his lips nervously.

There’s nothing and so he just closes the toilet and sits on the lid. It’s fine. He’ll have enough time to stop if he hears master unexpectedly came back. Not that he will. But still. Shit, but he won’t be able to hide his boner, will he? Will it be obvious what he has been doing? Maybe he could quickly jump into the shower if he hears master enter the bedroom…

Taking a deep breath, he tries to silence his anxious thoughts as he reaches down between his legs. Oh, this is nice. He hasn’t touched himself in such a long time. In the factory he barely had the energy to do more than collapse and pass out immediately but he used to do it all the time before he got sold.

He starts out slowly, his heart still beating nervously and he keeps straining his ears for any sounds. It’s vaguely pleasant but he’s getting nowhere nearer and soon he gets frustrated, his fear and impatience driving him to jerk himself of angrily. Fuck this. He’s going to come even if it’s the last thing he does. Master can’t take this away from him.

It takes a long time and his arm is starting to ache before his toes curl and he comes with a moan all over his hand and stomach. Instead of the pleasant buzz and flowy feeling he gets with master, though, there’s a heavy feeling of guilt and wrongness pressing against his chess. He feels dirty and nasty and bad and with a sinking despair, he realizes that master has indeed taken this away from him already.

Hugging his knees on the hard, cold toilet seat, Erik buries his face in his legs and starts to cry. He sobs until he has no more tears and his lungs hurts and his face feels all sore and blotchy. What the hell is wrong with him? He doesn’t even know where to start and is too exhausted to try to untangle the mess inside his head anyway.

Scraping the last bits of his energy, he drags himself to the shower, where he stays a long time, not feeling any cleaner at the end of it. He puts his clothes back on and swiftly leaves the bedroom. He doesn’t think he could stay there and just think about what he’s done. And he really, _really_ doesn’t want to be alone right now.

Dennis isn’t the one he hoped to run into and he ducks his head, giving him a polite nod before trying to slide past him and continue his way to the garden. The older slave gives him one look and his face scrunches up.

“Hey,” he says softly, stopping him from slinking out of the room with a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

Erik curses internally for not checking himself in the mirror before he left. He’s probably still red-eyed and looking like shit.

“Yeah,” he says, not lifting his eyes from his bare feet. He’s not even trying to sound convincing. What’s the point, Dennis wouldn’t buy it anyway.

“Come with me,” he says with a sigh and Erik follows him listlessly to the kitchen. A moment later, Dennis sets two steaming cups on the table and slides to the bench next to him.

There’s a long and awkward silence in which Dennis stirs his tea, lost in thought, and Erik fidgets nervously with a loose thread of the table cloth.

“I know it’s hard,” Dennis says finally and Erik flinches a little at the sound of his voice. “You’ve been thrown in at the deep end and that must be really difficult to adjust to. I can only imagine. But it does get easier, you know?”

Erik frowns in confusion, milling the words over, not really sure what to say.

“What I mean is, most of the boys are trained from a young age to become pleasure slaves. It’s much easier when you know what to do and what to expect. I, for example, was twelve when they started training me. It may seem overwhelming now but trust me, in years…”

“Wait, wait,” Erik interrupts him. “You were a pleasure slave?”

Dennis leans back, smirking a little. “Does that surprise you?”

“A bit, yeah,” Erik admits, looking at Dennis with completely new eyes. Well, he is kind of pretty, must have been even more so when he was young, with his black hair and piercing dark eyes framed by thick eyelashes.

“I was young and pretty once, believe it or not. Well, I guess not like you. I never got sold privately and I ended up in a brothel where I worked for years. That was not much fun, let me tell you. But that’s where master – I mean old master, master Gabriel’s father, found me and he took me in. I’ve been with him for over twenty years. Sure, he didn’t use me as much later on but from time to time, he would still take me to bed,” he smiles fondly and Erik watches him in disbelief.

“And his wife, I mean, master’s mother, she didn’t mind?”

“No, why would she,” Dennis waves his hand. “I think she was glad master took all that ‘freaky shit’ to someone else,” he chuckles. “And then when he died,” he continues and Erik doesn’t miss the sadness that passes briefly over his face, “and young master inherited me, he was kind enough to keep me. He could have easily sent me back to a brothel—not a high-class one, obviously, I was forty at that time—but there was still a lot of places that would have paid decent money for me.”

“I don’t think master cares much about the money,” Erik mutters.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Dennis looks at him seriously. “Master’s parents were comfortably wealthy, but they also left a lot of debt. Master was 21 and mistress only 6 when he founded his company and built it up from scratch to provide for themselves,” he says and Erik thinks there’s some sort of pride in his voice.

They fall quiet for a while and Erik’s mind buzzing. “I have so many questions,” he says finally and Dennis smiles indulgingly.

“Go ahead.”

“How did master’s parents die?”

“Car crash. Both of them dead on the spot,” Dennis answers, though it’s clear he doesn’t really want to talk about that.

“What about Tracy, was she one of master’s parents’?”

“No,” Dennis shakes his head and a small smile returns to his lips. “When master started doing okay for himself with his company, he got her because he hated my cooking. As much as I tried, cooking is definitely not one of my talents.”

Erik laughs, absolutely loving all this new information about master. It just seems so weird, trying to imagine him as young and struggling with money, instead of the confident, wealthy man he is now.

“So,” Erik hesitates but he is way too curious not to ask. “Did master sleep with you, after – you know, he inherited you?”

At that, Dennis snorts. “What do you think? Of course he has. Even before – as a young and horny teenager, he would sneak into my room to ‘borrow’ his father’s pleasure slave. I never told on him, though. Even taught him a thing or two,” Dennis smiles into his cup. “He came less and less often as he got older though. It was never anything like with you. I’ve never seen him quite so obsessed with anyone before.”

“Oh,” Erik says, unsure if he should find that flattering or terrifying. Probably some weird mix of both.

“But anyway, what I wanted to say is that a lot of it is probably new and scary for you, but trust me when I say you’ll get used to it. And you can always come to me if you have any questions about…anything.”

“Thanks,” Erik says, his cheeks turning red. He can’t imagine asking Dennis about any of the…stuff they do in the bedroom. Nope. No way.

“Oh, I have a question, actually!” Erik suddenly remembers, as Dennis is about to get up, his empty cup in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know anything about computers?” he asks, and Dennis smiles, relieved.

“Alright, what do you need?”

Erik brings the laptop he got from master; he hasn’t even opened it yet, too afraid to he’d have no clue how to work it. Dennis shows him around, saves youtube and some other links to his browser.

“Don’t do anything stupid, you know master sees everything you do on it, right?” Dennis warns him before leaving and Erik rolls his eyes. No, he’s actually not that stupid to search for ‘how to run away’ on google or something.

He makes himself a nest of pillows on the bed and wraps himself in a blanket before propping the laptop on his knees. He gives the youtube thing a try and clicks on the first video that seems interesting. It keeps offering him more and more videos and soon Erik finds himself laughing at compilations of cute animals and people falling over so hard his stomach hurts. He doesn’t even know why it’s funny and he doesn’t think he has laughed like this since things went to shit and it’s nice to not have to think about his life for a while.

There are steps just outside the bedroom and Erik quickly snaps the laptop shut and puts it away. A moment later master enters, his clouded-over face brightening up with a smile as he takes in Erik, all comfy in his little nest on the bed.

“Oh, hello, sweetheart,” he says, taking off his jacket and tie, throwing them recklessly on the floor.

“Welcome home, master,” Erik says, hoping his face doesn’t betray the way his heart is beating in his chest. He did not expect master to come this early. Had he come an hour earlier, he would have caught Erik in the act!

He hadn’t, though, Erik reassures himself and tries to calm down. It’s fine.

Master plops down next to Erik and snuggles close, wrapping his arms around Erik. With a sigh, Erik makes himself relax into the touch.

“You’re home early, master,” Erik says softly, hoping it doesn’t sound too suspicious.

“Hmm,” master hums tiredly. “We’ve finally closed the order we’ve been working on for a long time. I know I’ve been neglecting you lately, but I’m going to make it up to you,” he smiles, running his hand up Erik’s thigh and cupping his crotch. Erik flinches as panic sets in his guts; there’s no way he’s going to be able to get it up eagerly enough for master not to notice. He doesn’t think he’s going to be able to even come this soon and if he is, it’s hardly going to be enough. Oh, he’s so fucked!

Master slips his hand under the waistband of Erik’s pants and starts stroking. Erik cringes, doing his best to stay still as master keeps working his still sensitive dick. It’s not happening and soon master gives up, narrowing his eyes at Erik.

“I-uh,” Erik struggles to find words. “You look so tired, master. And tense. I can help with that!” Erik blurts out, probably too eagerly, as he wriggles himself from underneath his arm and reaches for the buttons of master’s shirt. He doesn’t know the first thing about massage but how hard can that be? He can only hope the distraction will work.

Master grabs his wrists and narrows his eyes at him. Erik bites his lip as the seconds tick by and he curses himself for being so obvious. Then, master lets go of his hands and smirks a little.

“Go on, then,” he says and Erik’s breathes through his nose in relief. Master watches him intently as he undoes the buttons and then pulls the soft white shirt off him. He lies on his stomach, resting his head on his forearms and Erik straddles his ass while keeping most of his weight on his knees.

He starts running his hands over the expanse of master’s back cluelessly, focusing on his shoulders and neck where most of the tension usually is. He wishes he at least had some oil or anything to ease the friction but he still does his best. It actually feels kind of nice, to be the one on top and being allowed to please master like this, though he has no idea how pleasurable his fumbling attempts actually are.

After a while, master turns around, his half-lidded eyes clouded with lust. He pushes Erik down and he gets the hint. Quickly undoing his pants, he takes master’s already hard dick out and gives it a teasing lick.

Master’s having none of that, though. He fists his hands in Erik’s hair and pulls him all the way down, snapping his hips up. He then proceeds to fuck Erik’s mouth, roughly and mercilessly and Erik does his best to let it happen, concentrating desperately on keeping his teeth out of the way.

After he comes down Erik’s throat, he pulls him up to lie next to him, throwing his leg possessively over him.

“I’m going to let it slide this one time,” he says quietly and Erik goes rigid, cold fear running down his spine. Master’s looking at him expectantly and Erik swallows, knowing there is no use in denying anything.

“Thank you, master,” he says instead, unable to look master in the eyes.

“You’re not going to do it again, though, are you?” he asks and Erik quickly shakes his head.

“No. I won’t. I swear, master.”

“Good,” master sighs, patting Erik’s cheek with a smirk. “I hope not. For your own sake, boy.” With that, he turns around and falls asleep.

Erik stays in the bed for a while, waiting for his thundering heart to slow down. It takes some time for his brain to really believe he’s not going to get punished for this. He remembers master’s threat of locking his dick in a cage very vividly. Automatically, his hands go down to protect his crotch, the mere idea making his stomach turn with fear.

Eventually, his nerves settle and he gets restless. Quietly he slips out of the bed and retrieves his laptop. Closing himself in the bathroom, so as not to disturb master’s nap, he brings up youtube again, typing slowly with one finger: _how to give massage._

Determined, he settles in on the hard floor and clicks the first video.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just pure smut. Sorry not sorry!

Erik puts the last thing on the shelf master has cleared for him and takes a step back to admire the display.

It’s been nice the last few days; master was home most of the time, which meant Erik barely had time to get bored. He even took him to the beach again and today, after some convincing that he’s never going to build up any immunity if he doesn’t let him among other people ever again, he allowed him to join him and Jerry on a trip to a traditional market. It was loud and crowded, the stalls loaded with food, and spices and so many different things Erik’s never seen in his life.

Master browsed it leisurely, looking bored, as Jerry swiftly got everything on their shopping list with an efficiency that told him he knew this place like the back of his hand, while Erik looked around with wide eyes. When master slipped a bill in his hand and told him to ‘have fun’, Erik was once again surprised and a little bit scared by the fondness he felt for his master at that moment.

A few hours later when the left the market, Erik was proudly clutching his treasure – a handful of little trinkets, small carved animals, a small bowl made of seashells and a leather bracelet. He deliberately chose the cheapest things he could find so that he could have more of them instead of going for one expensive thing.

Now neatly lined on the shelf, it is painfully obvious just how much these little knick-knacks don’t fit into the modern cold décor of master’s bedroom but having a little space that’s his still makes him feel stupidly giddy.

It’s been a long and tiring day, though. He’s not used to being outside this much and his feet are killing him, too, from the ill-fitting sandals he was given for the trip. All he wants to do is go to bed and sleep, though judging from the glint in master’s eyes, watching him from the other side of the room, he has a feeling he’s not going to get his wish.

Sure enough, master stalks to him slowly and hugs him from behind, pressing kisses at his neck, biting at the sensitive skin.

“You were the prettiest thing at the market today. I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he says hoarsely against his nape and then nudges him toward the bed. “Strip and get on the bed.”

Erik suppress a sigh when he sees master get his beloved box of toys while he quickly sheds off his clothes. He knew it was too naïve to hope for a simple fuck.

Master gets his favorite black leather cuffs and Erik tries to get his mind to settle while master fastens them on. He’s kind of grateful for the cuffs; they feel familiar by now, the soft lining sitting snuggly around his wrists. He knows he won’t chafe if he tugs at them and he doesn’t have to worry about what to do with his hands or focus on keeping the position.

The next thing he pulls out Erik hasn’t seen before. It’s some kind of a bar with cuffs on each side.

“On your knees, face down, ass up,” master orders and Erik wants to groan. He fucking hates that position; it makes him feel exposed and vulnerable. It gets even worse when master attaches the cuffs to his thighs with the bar between them preventing him from closing his legs. Next, master clips his wrists to the cuffs on his thighs on each side. Erik wriggles a little, testing the bindings, but it soon becomes obvious he is stuck in this humiliating position.

“Beautiful,” master hums appreciatively, as he kneads the flesh of his ass, pulling his cheeks apart to expose him even more. A blob of lube is dribbled directly on his hole and master slides his finger in while reaching down with his other hand to jerk him off.

It doesn’t take much to get him achingly hard and as soon as he does, master snaps on a tight silicon cock ring around the base of his dick.

“You’re not coming any time soon, so get comfortable,” master tells him warmly, smacking his ass affectionately as he gets up. Erik tracks him with his eyes nervously as he goes back to the box and swallows when he sees the thing he takes out. It’s a set of balls, starting from a small one and then increasing in size, with the last one being of quite an intimidating diameter. They’re attached to some sort of string that ends with a handle and Erik’s heart picks up. These aren’t all going in, are they? There’s no way all those beads are going to fit inside him, right?

“Master?” he asks fearfully as master sits back down behind him, spreading more lube on first bead. “Are you gonna… That’s… that’s not gonna—” Erik struggles to string together a sentence, his brain too caught up on the sheer length of the whole thing.

“Relax,” master says, patting his side as if he were a spooked animal. “Do you trust me that I’m not going to injure you?” he asks seriously, while soothingly running his hand up and down his back.

“I… yes, maser,” Erik answers honestly. Does he trust master that he’s not going to hurt him? Absolutely not. But injure him? Yes. He’s reasonably confident that’s not master’s intention.

“Then you have to trust me that I won’t give you more than you can take,” he answers easily and the discussion is clearly over. Fuck, that’s really easier said than done, though. Eventually, trust is all he can do, though. There’s no way for him to get out of here. He grasps onto the thought, as it sets some of his fears to rest. There’s no use in fighting so he might as well submit.

He still flinches when the first bead touches his hole but it goes in easily enough. So does the second one and master twists and turns them for a while before pressing in the third. He needs to use a bit of pressure before his ass swallows the ball and already, Erik feels uncomfortably full.

Master doesn’t stop, though. Gently but steadily he presses one after the other in and Erik’s toes curl at the feeling of the balls moving deeper inside him. Erik’s dick is weeping steadily, ruining master’s bed cover, and he can’t help the little broken sounds, muffled against the sheets.

The next bead feels huge against his ass and Erik takes in a shaky breath, trying to relax. It’s fine, that must be the last one, he tells himself. It’s stretches his hole almost painfully and presses the rest of the beads even deeper inside him and he moans, trying to get used to the weird sensation.

It’s done though, he breathes in relief and strains his neck to look back at master. He regrets it immediately when he sees there are _two_ more beads remaining and his stomach sinks when he sees master dripping more lube on them.

“Master,” he whines pitifully. “Oh god, I can’t.”

“Nonsense,” master says easily. “You’re doing great.”

It takes a long time for the last two to go in and _stay_ in. Erik is convinced there’s no way the whole string can fit inside his slender frame and his fear is making it harder for his body to relax, but master’s patient and persistent. By the time the last bead is in, tears roll freely down Erik’s cheeks and he can’t stop himself from shaking.

“Amazing,” master breathes out. “How do you feel?”

“Full,” Erik manages to grit through his teeth and master chuckles.

“I bet,” he says, giving the handle one more turn. “Ready?” he asks and Erik frowns. _For what?_ He wants to ask but doesn’t even have time to open his mouth before master takes the handle and just pulls all the beads out in one fluid motion.

Erik screams, struggling against the bar, automatically wanting to close his legs against the gut-wrenching feeling. He would have probably come on the spot if it weren’t for the stupid ring and he moans desperately into the pillow.

“Oh, that was fun,” master says gleefully while Erik tries to catch his breath. “Wanna go again?”

Erik shakes his head desperately but it seems it was more of a rhetorical question, as master relubes the toy and once again lines it with Erik’s entrance. It goes in easier this time but that’s little consolation, knowing now the worst part by far is when it _comes out._

The second time master pulls it out, he does it infuriatingly slow and controlled pace. Erik arches his back, letting out a stream of profanities that would make a sailor blush. He’s ready to beg if master wants to go for a third round but when looks behind him, master has already thrown the toy away and is undoing his pants.

 _Finally_ , Erik thinks when master thrusts inside him, enjoying the familiar feeling after the intrusiveness of those beads. Usually, master is riled up enough from playing with him that he doesn’t last long and then he gets to come too. Hopefully.

His hope plummets quickly when master doesn’t take the cock ring off. Instead he fucks him unhurriedly, pulling almost all the way out before driving his dick down again, hitting his prostate with precision every fucking time, and Erik wants to scream in frustration.

It goes on for fucking forever. Master even takes a break to pour himself a drink before going back to fucking Erik, clearly in no hurry to get off.

Erik doesn’t think he can take it much longer. He’s tired, his thigh muscles burning from the strain of keeping his legs open like this, his hole feels raw and his dick is angry red and throbbing. He just fucking wants to come.

“Please, master. Please,” he begs miserably and it seems to do the trick as master finally grabs his hips and speeds up the pace. He comes not long after, groaning and holding onto Erik so hard he’s sure he’s going to have finger-shaped bruises tomorrow.

“Oh god,” master groans, satisfied. “You really are something else,” he chuckles when he pulls out. Quickly, he undoes Erik’s bindings, including the cock ring, throwing them haphazardly on the ground, and pulls him to lie down next to him on the bed.

“You were so good for me today,” master purrs into his eyes, still a bit breathless, as he brushes a strand of hair from his face. Erik sighs and nuzzles closer. He’s dick is still painfully hard and doesn’t show signs of flagging. Frustration is thrumming under his skin and he balls his hands in fists to stop himself from reaching down to jerk himself off.

“That definitely deserves a reward,” master smiles and Erik perks up. “Oh, I know!”

Master’s eyes light up and he turns over, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. He quickly types something and then sinks back in bed with a satisfied grin. Worry settles in Erik’s stomach. He does not like the look on master’s face. And what the hell did he just type? Suddenly he’s not sure he wants to find out.

He doesn’t have to wonder long, though, as just a minute later, there’s a knock on the door. Erik quickly pulls the blanket up, barely managing to hide his nakedness before Dennis enters. He’s in his pajamas, his usually neatly combed hair hanging messily around his face. It’s pretty obvious he was already sleeping, as alert as he tries to look.

“Oh good, that was fast! Dennis, I want to give Erik a reward. Suck him off.”

Erik’s heart skips a beat and he goes rigid. “Wh—But…Master!” he looks at him desperately.

“What?” Master shrugs. “He’s really good, trust me. Has anyone ever sucked you off before?”

“Uh, no,” Erik admits, his cheeks turning pink. It’s not like he hadn’t had better things to worry about than getting a blow job.

“See? That’s just sad. But we’re going to rectify that. Come here, Dennis.”

“Master,” he tries again, clutching the covers.

“Do you not want to come?” master asks deceptively gently and Erik narrows his eyes in anger. Now that is a trick question. There is absolutely no answer he can give that won’t end badly for him and he’s not going to fall for this fucking trap. He pursues his lips and stays quiet.

Dennis slowly climbs on the bed and reaches for the blanket. He doesn’t tug it away, instead locking his eyes with Erik’s, waiting. His face is open and earnest when he mouths _it’s okay_ , and finally, Erik relinquishes his hold on the cover.

There’s no point in feeling ashamed about this, he tells himself. He has absolutely no control over the situation and neither does Dennis. They’re just doing what they have to to survive. There’s no shame in that, he tries to convince his brain, but it doesn’t really work.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees master lean back to enjoy the show, a smug smile on his face.

“Go slow on him, I want him to last at least a few minutes,” he says and Erik feels new anger burn hot in his chest. It’s not like master hasn’t been teasing him for the past fucking _hour_. Of course he’s not going to last long.

Dennis makes himself comfortable between Erik’s legs and then takes the head of Erik’s dick in his mouth, twirling his tongue around it and Erik feels he could come on the spot. He hides his face in the crook of his elbow, biting his skin to keep himself from making any more embarrassing sounds.

“Nuh-uh!” master admonishes him immediately. “None of that, I want to hear you.”

Erik has no choice but to let his hand fall back down. In slow controlled movements, Dennis goes all the way down on him, taking his whole length in until Erik feels his dick reach the back of this throat. He doesn’t even gag, only holds still for a while before going back up and Erik can’t help but feel impressed. Fuck, how does he do that?

Dennis continues to suck him off, hollowing his cheeks and using his tongue in ways Erik didn’t even know were possible and Erik closes his eyes, unable to keep in his breathless moans.

“Fuck – I’m gonna…” he manages to warn Dennis at the last second but he doesn’t pull away, instead holding him close as he comes down his throat. It seems to go on forever and still Dennis manages to gracefully swallow it all without even flinching and then licks him clean before wiping his mouth his hand.

Erik lies completely boneless on the bed, panting, his heart pounding. He is so done. He wants nothing but to sleep for a few days straight. Fuck, will master make him return the favor? Oh god, he hopes not.

“I told you he’s good, huh?” he hears master from somewhere afar. “What do say?”

“Thank you, Dennis. Master,” he slurs, unable to find the energy to even open his eyes.

“Aw,” master chuckles. “Look what you did to my poor boy.”

There are some more words exchanged but he doesn’t even try to make sense of them. All he cares about is when master hugs him close, throwing a blanket over both of them and he can finally stop fighting the sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is now my second longest work! I have no idea what I'm doing but I'm actually having fun writing it, which I can't say about some of my other fics. Anyway, I hope you're enjoying it too, at least a little!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is having a bit of a crisis. The others try to help.

In the morning, master’s back to work and Erik once again wakes up alone. First thing he does is take a scalding shower, rubbing angrily at the residues of master’s cum between his legs. Nasty. How the hell did he fall asleep like this last night? Shows just how exhausted he was.

Afterwards he hovers by the bedroom door, trying to find the courage to go downstairs for breakfast. He’s hungry but he doesn’t think he could handle running into Dennis, the memory of last night like a hot ember in his stomach.

This is so embarrassing, he groans into his hands. How is he supposed to look Dennis in the eyes now and not think about his mouth wrapped around his dick? Why did master have to bring Dennis into this? He was doing fine when it was just the two of them. More or less fine, anyway.

Eventually his hunger does drive him out. He sneaks quietly through the house, listening around every corner and makes it to the kitchen unnoticed. Hastily, he puts together a sloppy sandwich, intending to make a quick retreat back to his room.

“Stop avoiding me,” Dennis says from the door and Erik flinches so hard he almost drops the food.

“Am not,” he mutters, not lifting his eyes.

“Sure,” Dennis snorts and then softens. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. You know I didn’t have much choice…”

“What? No, _I’m_ sorry. You’re the one who… who had to…”

“Seriously, kid, you think it was the first blow job I had to give?” he shakes his head. “It wasn’t even the thousandth. I don’t mind,” he shrugs.

“How—How can you say that? As if it was nothing. As if it didn’t matter!”

“Look, if you’re going to stay here as master’s bed slave, you’ve got to get used—”

“What if I don’t wanna!” Erik yells back and Dennis blinks in surprise. Erik sniffs, hating the tears that sting in his eyes. “What if I don’t wanna be a fucking _pet_ ,” Erik spits out. He knows he’s behaving like a petulant child right now and he sort of expects Dennis to just slap it out of him.

He hunches his shoulders when Dennis takes a step closer. He doesn’t touch him, though, just looks at him imploringly. “It doesn’t matter what you want. This is a _good_ place. You’ll never go hungry, or get hurt or abused, you’ll have all your needs taken care of. It doesn’t get any better for a slave like you and me.”

Erik shakes his head mutely in denial.

“Listen to me,” Dennis hisses. “This could be your home. You can grow old here, like me. Master’s not going to sell you if you behave – and if he ever finds someone younger and prettier to fuck, he’ll just find something else for you to do. Hell, you could end up as his secretary or he could _free_ you after some time, do you realize that? You do not throw a chance like this away.”

Erik stays silent, not trusting his voice. Dennis sighs unhappily, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what, you want master to sell you?” he asks, irritated. “He will if you keep fighting him and if he thinks you’re truly unhappy here. He’ll find you a decent enough place, only it won’t last and sooner or later you’ll find yourself in a fucking _brothel_ or with some sick fuck that likes to slice slaves open just to see them bleed—”

The door opens and Dennis shuts up abruptly as Jerry peeks in timidly, eyes flicking between them in confusion and worry.

“Um – I was just gonna,” he says, waving an empty water bottle awkwardly towards the sink.

Erik turns on his heel and runs out of the room without another word. He doesn’t want to go anywhere near the bedroom right now and on autopilot, his feet take him to the slave quarters to Jerry’s room. He curls on the spare bed, his back to the room and buries his head into the pillow, screaming in frustration.

He screams until his throat is raw and scratchy. It doesn’t make him much lighter, though, only silly. He fucking hates Dennis right now. He hates him for being right and reasonable, for accepting his life, for being so well-adjusted.

In all four years in the factory, he never felt this helpless and frustrated. It was like there his mind shut down completely, only focusing on trying to survive – to get enough to eat, not to get beaten and fucked, not to get his blanket stolen… There was nothing else. And he was so grateful when he got here, too! How easy it is to get used to a life of luxury, to feeling full and warm and safe. Why can’t it be enough?

He’s brought back from his thoughts by the sound of feet softly padding down the stairs. The next moment, Jerry sits next to him on the bed and after a short hesitation, his small hand touches his shoulder gently.

“Erik?” he says softly. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay!” he mutters miserably. Jerry doesn’t answer, just keeps rubbing his shoulder soothingly, and Erik feels like even a bigger piece of shit. He shouldn’t have said that. Jerry’s probably been through much worse and he’s not whining about it. Why can’t _he_ just suck it up?

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asks after a moment and Erik’s eternally grateful he hasn’t asked him _what’s wrong_.

“I wanna stay here,” Erik admits after a beat. As appealing as a movie sounds, he doesn’t want to go anywhere near Dennis right now.

“It’s fine, I’ll bring a laptop. We have Netflix here,” Jerry smiles. “I’ll be right back.”

As promised, he’s back not five minutes later with a laptop and a ridiculously fluffy blanket. Before they can even get settled, Tracy nudges the door open with her shoulder, carrying a tray in her hands. A waft of honey and cinnamon comes with her and she sets two steaming cups and two plates with pie and whipped cream down on the night stand.

“You boys have a snack,” she smiles.

“Tracy!” Jerry whispers nervously. “That pie was for master’s and mistress’ desert.”

“So what?” she shrugs, her eyes burning angrily. “It’s not like they’re going to eat it all. Go on, it’s still warm, you need a bit of sugar.”

“I—Thank you, Tracy,” Erik says, touched by the gesture. Why the hell is everyone so nice to him? He doesn’t deserve any of it and he feels new tears spring to his eyes. Oh god, why can’t he seem to stop crying today?

“Scoot over,” Jerry says and Erik is happy to obey. Jerry settles next to him on the small bed and they cuddle under the blanket, plates with pie on their laps and tea in their hands. Jerry starts a movie, some silly comedy that Erik only pay half a mind to but still can’t help but laugh along, especially since Jerry’s laugh is so contagious.

It’s nice, having Jerry next to him like this, and he rests his head on his slender shoulder, enjoying the touch for what it is – a comforting warmth, pure and innocent, without any threat of it turning sexual any moment.

Halfway through the movie Jerry’s watch vibrates. He reads the message and gives Erik an apologetic smile.

“Master’s back. I should—We should probably go.”

“Right,” Erik agrees and reluctantly disentangles himself from the blanket.

\--°°--

Gabriel heads straight for the office when he gets home. Erik’s nowhere to be seen but that’s fine. He’s probably somewhere in the garden, as usual. There’s just one more thing he needs to finish and then he’ll go find him.

He barely has time to start his computer before there’s a knock on the door. It’s Dennis and Gabriel beckons him to come inside, looking at him curiously as he hesitates by the door.

“What is it?” Gabriel asks when nothing comes out of him.

“I was wondering – if you’re not too busy, master – if we could talk.”

“Okay,” he leans back in his chair, his curiosity only increasing. “Have a seat.”

Dennis sits on the edge of the chair on the other side of the table, studying his fingernails for a while before he finally looks up. “May I speak freely, master?”

Gabriel sighs. So it’s this kind of talk, huh? He’s known Dennis his whole life; hell, Dennis has helped raise him, has been a steady presence throughout his whole childhood. It was hard to see him as just a slave and their relationship has always been more open because of that. Not that Gabriel doesn’t demand respect and obedience from him, but at the same time, Dennis has always been the only one who dares speak up to him and Gabriel appreciates the honesty and values his opinions, as much as he doesn’t like to hear it sometimes.

“Alright, fine, go ahead,” he waves his hand.

“It’s about Erik. I think you’re pushing him too hard,” Dennis says bluntly, looking Gabriel straight in the eyes, and Gabriel immediately feel himself bristle. He’s been nothing but kind and patient with the boy. He’s given him gifts, even turned the blind eye the other day when he could have punished him. Taking a deep breath, he tries to keep his emotions under control.

“Is this about yesterday?”

“Partly, yeah. He’s a bit upset.”

“What, why?” Gabriel frowns. “Because I had you suck him off? Why would anyone get upset over receiving a blow job?” Gabriel jokes.

Dennis gives him an unimpressed look, clearly not amused. “He’s new to this. He’s overwhelmed and in way over his head right now. He’s a good kid and he’s smart, he’s going to get used to this and adapt but I think he could really use a breather right now if you don’t want him to end up hating you.”

Gabriel mulls it over, fighting not to let his irritation show. Yeah, he does _not_ like hearing this.

“I’m not going to stop having sex with him, if that’s what you’re hinting at. I’ve given him a safe place to stay, food, and ways to entertain himself. What most slaves would give to have that. Sex is a small price to pay for that—I’m nice to him, I don’t hurt him, he gets to come. It’s a good deal!” Not to mention, Gabriel loves having the boy at his mercy too much. It’s intoxicating and there’s no way he’s going to stop.

“I know,” Dennis says placatingly. “Just give him a bit more time. And maybe something more to do during the day.”

“What?” Gabriel barks, unable to rein in his frustration. “I gave him a sketchbook and a computer. What else do you want from me?”

“He keeps following us like a lost puppy the whole day just not to be alone! He needs social contact and we’re too busy during the day to pay him much attention. And in the evening, when we go downstairs and relax, he’s up with you. He’s lonely.”

Gabriel groans, even though he sees the truth in what Dennis is telling him. This is why he hasn’t taken up a personal slave before – it’s hard! All slaves he’s had so far have been perfectly content to be left to their own devices, he didn’t have to babysit them. He’d just give them tasks and buy them things and everyone was happy. So why does it have to be so complicated with Erik?

“Okay,” he says finally, resigned. “I’ll figure something out. I want you to keep an eye on him and keep me informed.”

“Yes, master,” Dennis gets up and leaves with a little bow.

Once he’s alone, Gabriel can’t shake off the uneasy feeling sitting in his stomach and he spends a long time staring at the screen, not really seeing anything, just thinking.

\--°°--

Erik does his best to act as nothing is out of the ordinary for the rest of the evening, as if he isn’t one word from either bursting into tears or screaming in frustration. Master, thankfully, is either oblivious or happy to ignore Erik’s sulky mood.

He still hugs and pets his hair as he’s kneeling by his side during dinner and Erik lets it happen even though he can’t help going tense and rigid. As night approaches, Erik’s nerves peak, but master just pulls him close under the covers and tells him to go to sleep.

Erik’s up long after master’s snoring softly. It’s not even that late and Erik feels anger simmer under his skin at the unfairness of it. He has to lie here, staring at the ceiling when he’s not even tired, while the others are down in the quarters doing—what? Reading? Chatting? Just relaxing?

Having made up his mind, Erik once again quietly slips from the bed. It’s not hard as master let go of him in his sleep, now sprawled all over his side. Waiting a bit to make sure he doesn’t stir, Erik quickly throws his clothes back on, grabs his laptop and silently runs downstairs.

Again, Jerry opens the door almost immediately, pulling Erik inside before he can even open his mouth.

“Wanna finish the movie?” Erik grins, pointing to the laptop.

“You know you shouldn’t be here,” Jerry says softly, biting at his lip nervously. “I don’t want you to get in trouble again. Please, I don’t want you punished again.”

“Oh, come on. As if he’s going to notice. Please? I can’t sleep and I don’t wanna think.”

“Okay, come here,” Jerry gives in, taking his hand and leading him to bed.

They end up watching two movies and when the second end credits roll, Erik’s already half-asleep.

“You gotta get up,” Jerry nudges him. “Come on, you can’t fall asleep here.”

Grunting sleepily, Erik painstakingly gets up and drags himself back up to the bedroom. Holding his breath, he quietly starts to take off his clothes in the dark room.

“Where were you?”

He freezes, suddenly wide awake as his heart starts to beat in fear.

“I only had to pee, master,” he says softly and quickly hurries back to bed.

“And you needed to put your clothes on for that?” master asks dangerously quietly and Erik’s stomach drops. He tries to come up with some explanation but his brain goes completely blank and he just opens and closes his mouth several times, nothing coming out.

“Where were you?” master asks again.

“I was—I was watching a movie with Jerry,” he admits and then wants to slap himself. Why the hell didn’t he think of some other excuse? Shit, he could have said he was watching a movie alone. Why did the drag Jerry into this?

“Come here,” master sighs, wrapping himself around Erik from behind. “I can’t believe I have to say it out loud, but you’re not allowed to leave the bed after we go to sleep. Now, go back to sleep, we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

Erik barely gets any rest that night, unable to stop worrying. Whatever restless sleep he gets is filled with nightmares that he doesn’t remember, but the fear lingers every time he wakes up, gasping.

He feels like shit in the morning, struggling to suppress the yawns as they eat their breakfast outside in the garden. He’d kill for a sip of master’s deliciously smelling coffee right now and he tries not to stare too much.

“I want you to take a nap today when I’m at work” master notes, looking him up and down. “Not more than two hours though, I don’t want you to ruin your sleep cycle.”

“Yes, master,” Erik says, fighting not to roll his eyes.

Jerry comes a moment later to clear the table, looking more tired than usual, too, with dark circles on his porcelain white skin, and Erik feels a stab of guilt. It’s not like he’ll get to take a nap during the day.

“Wait a moment, Jerry,” master stops him as he’s reaching for the dirty dishes. “We need to talk.”

Jerry glances towards Erik fearfully before giving a slight bow and taking a step back, waiting. Oh fuck, Erik remembers master’s words from yesterday with a sudden dread. He reaches for master’s ankle pleadingly. Oh please, let him be the one to be punished for this. Master reaches down, stroking his cheek in what’s probably supposed to be a reassuring manner.

“We are going to have some changes around here. First off, twelve to three is now your off time, Jerry. You can watch a movie with Erik, hang out, read, whatever, but I don’t want you working. Are we clear?”

“Y-yes, master,” Jerry says, frowning in confusion at the ground.

“Second, you are now to take Erik with you for grocery shopping and other errands out of the house. You will let me know in advance when and where you’re going and I wait for my permission before leaving.”

“Yes, master,” Jerry nods again, sounding no less confused.

“Alright then,” master claps his hands, satisfied, dismissing Jerry, who scurries out of there, not before throwing one more questioning look towards Erik.

“There will be no more sneaking out of bed at night, right?”

“No, master,” Erik shakes his head, eagerly, his head swimming. “No, I won’t,” he promises again.

“Good,” master smiles fondly, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. “No go get your beauty rest, I’ll be home later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're ever bored and want to chat or just say hi, you can always find me at my discord at https://discord.gg/zTf4Yjw
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Jerry get into trouble and they both get punished

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! My kid has got the sniffles and probably won't go to the kindergarten next week, which means I'm going to lose my precious writing time:( Please be patient with me and I hope you'll enjoy this longer chapter.

The next week goes by in a relative peace. Master gives him space and he appreciates it. They still cuddle in bed and master’s kind and affectionate, stroking his cheek often or petting his hair, but he doesn’t fuck him, or use him at all.

His days when master’s at work are much more fun too. In the morning he draws or reads and then they all sit down to eat lunch. Whereas before Jerry would grab something at weird hours or eat a sandwich at the green house, he now joins them every time. Afterwards they still have to time to watch a movie or laze around, provided mistress doesn’t come and take Jerry away.

Erik doesn’t know if she hasn’t been informed about Jerry’s new schedule or if she simply doesn’t care but he suspects the latter. When she wants something done, she wants it done _now_ and they all know it’s better to just obey.

It’s still a huge improvement, especially when now he gets to leave the house to run errands with Jerry. So far, master has approved all his trips and Erik was having a blast. What is probably a boring chore for Jerry is a treat for him. He only wishes he had some pocket money like Jerry does and he makes a mental note to maybe bring it up later.

After some time, though, worry starts to gnaw at him. Why has master stopped using him? Does he not like him anymore? Not very likely, considering the way he looks at him. Does he think he can’t take it? Does he know about his little meltdown the other day? He hates the uncertainty and he hates not knowing what’s going on in master’s head. And not to mention, he’s getting embarrassingly horny, as used to getting off practically on daily basis as he was.

It’s no surprise then when he wakes up rock-hard again that morning. Normally he’d take a cold shower and ignore it but today, master’s still in bed with him, watching him with a sleepy smile. He’s so close and warm and suddenly Erik craves his touch and affection like nothing else.

Tentatively he scoots a bit closer, suddenly nervous. What if master pushes him away? The mere thought of being rejected by him makes his stomach drop. His worries prove unjustified, though, as master opens his arms and pulls him closer, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. Erik sighs contently, feeling safe wrapped in master’s arms. It’s not so bad, is it? At least his master cares about him. Not many slaves are this lucky.

Tilting his head, he catches master’s mouth in a kiss. It’s awkward and fumbling but he feels master smile against his lips.

“Good morning to you too, sweetheart.”

Master deepens the kiss and Erik closes his eyes, making himself go pliant. They just kiss for a long time and it’s nice and easy only it does nothing to help with Erik’s erection that is now desperate to be touched. Subtly, he presses closer, rubbing himself against master’s leg.

Master breaks their kiss and whispers in his ear: “Touch yourself.”

Erik freezes, surprised by the order, but then slowly moves his hand down, stopping at the last possible moment.

“Wait… it’s not a trap, is it, master?”

Master shakes his head, chuckling. “Oh no, you’re only not allowed to touch yourself when I’m not there to enjoy the show.”

Hesitantly, he wraps his hand around his dick, looking at master uncertainly.

“Hm, wait, lick your palm.”

Erik bites his lip. There’s like a shit ton of lube bottles in the drawer. Master’d only have to reach his hand there. Swallowing his reluctance, he brings his hand back up and licks his palm as ordered before going back to stroking his dick.

“That’s it,” master mutters, kissing and nibbling at Erik’s neck, making his skin break in goosebumps, while his hand goes down to play with his nipples. “Just do whatever feels nice, as if I weren’t here.”

Erik closes his eyes and forces himself to relax. He focuses on his hand around his dick and on the pleasure that builds in his guts as he jerks himself. It takes some time to get used to the weird feeling of getting off while being watched but soon his breathing picks up and he arches his back as he’s getting close.

“Stop.”

Erik opens his eyes to see master watching him intently. It takes a surprising amount of willpower to make his muscles cooperate and his hand to let go. He grunts in frustration, he was so fucking close he could _taste_ it.

“Fuck! That is so mean, master,” Erik grumbles unhappily when he finally catches his breath.

“Aw,” master chuckles. “Alright, you can touch yourself. But go slow. Don’t come just yet.”

Erik tries to obey, keeps his touch as light and slow as possible, but still he has to bite the inside of his cheeks until he tastes blood to keep himself from coming. Master’s not helping either, sucking bruises on his neck and collarbone, while relentlessly teasing his nipples.

“Master, please?” he begs breathlessly and as usual, it helps, with master smiling indulgingly and saying: “Alright, go ahead.”

It takes but two strokes before he’s coming all over his stomach. He sags bonelessly, panting, enjoying the pleasure still rolling through him.

“Thank you, master,” he remembers to say and master gives him a satisfied grin as he settles to lie down next to him.

“You’re very welcome, pet. Oh, look at the mess, all the way up here” master says, almost admiringly, and gathers some of the cum that ended up on his chest on his fingers and brings them up to Erik’s mouth.

Erik pursues his lips and shakes his head, giving master a pleading look. His face is hard as stone and he just raises his eyebrows challengingly. Erik can tell immediately when there is no arguing with master and reluctantly he opens his mouth, licking master’s fingers clean, grimacing at the bitter, salty taste.

Immediately, master’s face softens again and he kisses Erik on the cheek. “Good boy. Feel free to sleep in, I have to go, though.”

Erik doesn’t have to be told twice. He wipes himself clean in the blanket, making a mental note to change the sheets later, and goes back to sleep.

In the afternoon, Erik runs into Jerry just as he’s about to leave the house.

“Wait, where you’re going?” he catches up to him.

“To the market,” Jerry answers, weirdly reluctant.

“Oh, cool. I’m coming with, wait for me. Where the hell are the stupid shoes—”

“I—uh, I don’t know. I sent master an email in the morning if you can come and he hasn’t replied.”

“Oh,” Erik deflates, considering. “But he’s just probably busy, you know?”

Jerry bites his lips, looking uncomfortable.

“It’s not like he told you I _can’t_ go, right?”

“Yeah, but he said I was to wait for a permission before leaving. Maybe you should stay—”

“Oh, Jerry, please! Besides, it’s still early, we’ll be back way before master comes back from work.”

Eventually, Jerry relents with a long-suffering sigh and Erik gives him a grin, throwing an arm over his shoulder as they go to the garage. Jerry starts the tiny red car and slowly drives out of the gate, a look of utmost concentration on his face.

“I wish I knew how to drive,” Erik comments and Jerry shrugs.

“It’s not that hard.”

“Right. What I meant was, I wish master _allowed_ me to learn how to drive.”

“Maybe he will, someday,” Jerry says with a small smile.

“Yeah, maybe,” Erik smiles back. Lately, Erik has started to believe it really isn’t that hopeless here. It’s been just like two months and already he gets to go outside unsupervised. Who’s to tell what his life will be like in years?

The market is once again bustling with life and Jerry interlocks his arm with Erik’s. “Do _not_ get lost here,” he hisses in his ear. They stop for fresh fruit and meat and everywhere the stall owners greet Jerry with a nod and already start preparing his order.

“The usual?” a lady with a friendly smile asks him and wipes her hands on a stained apron.

“Yes, m’am,” Jerry nods politely.

“You’ve got a helper with you, I see,” she nods towards Erik, who draws his shoulder up defensively.

“This is Erik, he’s master’s personal slave.”

“Oh,” the woman raises her eyebrows and looks Erik up and down thoroughly before going back to wrapping the fish in paper and putting in a plastic bag.

“Why did you tell her that?” Erik whispers, surprised, once they’re out of her earshot, though her eyes still follow them.

“She is the worst gossiper I’ve ever met. By tomorrow everyone will know who you are and who you belong to. You’ll get much better treatment if they know your master Gabriel’s slave.”

That’s actually quite clever, Erik thinks. Nobody probably wants get on the bad side of a man as rich and influential as his master. Oh, they better treat him alright, he thinks gleefully as he looks around with a new confidence.

Jerry keeps glancing at his watch every five minutes as he quickly goes through his shopping list. Erik doesn’t get to bring any new souvenirs home, but Jerry still buys them fresh figs with his pocket money which they eat sitting in a tree’s shadow a bit farther from the market, watching the people hurry by.

They make it back to the car in good time; there’s still at least an hour before master usually comes back. They laugh and chat the entire drive and it’s only when Jerry pulls into the garages that his face falls and he turns two shades paler.

“We…” he says slowly, “are in so much trouble.”

“What? What do you—oh.”

Following Jerry’s wide-eyed stare, he sees master’s sleek sports car already parked in his spot.

“Well, fuck. Maybe he won’t mind?” Erik tries but Jerry doesn’t answer. He just shakes his head miserably and gets out, gathering the bags from the back of the car with shaky hands.

“Jerry, I’m sorry—I’ll tell him it was all my fault.”

Jerry looks like he’s on the verge of tears and he doesn’t answer, only sets his mouth and heads inside and Erik has no option but to follow. He feels like shit; he isn’t even worried for himself, but seeing Jerry terrified like this rips his heart to pieces.

They don’t make it more than two steps into the house before Dennis appears from behind the corner, looking furious.

“You two! Master’s office, now,” he hisses angrily and Erik cringes.

“He’s mad, huh,” he asks and Dennis pins him with his dark eyes.

“Of course he’s mad. What the hell were you thinking, Jerry?” he sighs, exasperated, and beside him, Jerry sniffles softly.

“Hey!” Erik protests, feeling indignant on Jerry’s behalf. “It was my idea.”

“Save it,” Dennis rolls his eyes. “Now go! You don’t want to keep master waiting, trust me.”

The way upstairs seems three times as long as usual. Jerry looks like he’s going to his death and Erik’s insides are twisting with guilt, as he uselessly searches for any words to make this any better.

They knock on the door and master calls them in almost immediately. Jerry doesn’t lift his eyes and goes straight to his knees on the carpet in the middle of the room. Reluctantly, Erik follows his lead but not before looking up, catching a glance of master’s murderous stare. Oh fuck, he really is pissed.

Master lets them stew in the uncomfortable silence for a while before asking in a low voice. “Have I not made myself clear when I said you were to wait for my permission before leaving?”

“No, master,” Jerry whispers, barely audible.

“But, master—it was all my fault, though, I—”

“Quiet!” master roars, banging his hand on the table so hard they both flinch and Jerry starts to shake. “I don’t want to hear it! I have no doubt it was your idea but Jerry is responsible for his own decisions. Or did he physically force you to take him? Did he steal the car and drive himself?” master asks mockingly and Jerry shakes his head, tears now freely rolling down his cheeks.

“You are both to blame and you both will be punished,” master says, after taking a calming breath. He reaches for something in his drawer and tension coils in Erik’s muscles, a surge of protectiveness making his heart beat wildly. If he so much as touches Jerry, he’s gonna… he’s gonna… He’s not sure. Probably kick him in the balls or something. Anything.

He glares at master challengingly as he approaches them but master just smirks and shakes his head.

“Head up,” he orders Jerry, who’s all hunched on the floor, and hesitantly, the younger boy obeys. Master takes a black collar, not unlike what Erik’s wearing, and snaps it around Jerry’s neck, over his simple, thin leather one.

“You are on cleaning duty for a week and you’re grounded,” he says mildly, cupping Jerry’s face to look him in the eyes. “The collar’s set to sound an alarm if you so much as put one foot out of the house, so don’t even try it.”

“Yes, master,” Jerry blinks. “I’m sorry, master.”

“Okay,” master sighs and wipes Jerry’s tears with his thumb. “Go on, then. And I don’t ever want this happening again!” he calls after him as Jerry walks away on unsteady feet, glancing apprehensively at Erik before closing the door.

“And you,” master turns his attention to him and Erik averts his eyes. Now that they’re alone and Jerry’s out of immediate danger, he starts to feel ashamed and squirms uncomfortably under master’s scrutiny. “You are such a bad influence on the boy, you know that? I should just prohibit you from talking to him.”

“What?” Erik looks up in alarm. “No, master, please! I didn’t mean for this to happen, I honestly thought you’d be okay with me going. I thought—”

“You’re not here to _think_ but to _obey_!” master barks and Erik flinches. “I knew I was going to finish early today and I wanted you to be home when I got back, that’s why I didn’t want you to go.”

“I’m sorry, master. I’ll do better, I swear. I’m really sorry, please,” Erik pleads, shuffling closer on his knees. He’s so mad at himself right now. Not only did he get Jerry terrified and then grounded, but if master orders him to stay away from him, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

“Okay,” master nods after a moment of consideration and Erik lets out a tentative breath of relief. Master walks to the sofa and sits down.

“Take off your pants and come over here,” he pats his knees invitingly and Erik stares at him bewildered.

“When you’re acting like a child, you’re going to get punished like one. Come here, now!”

Erik quickly steps out of pants and hurries to obey. Awkwardly, he bends himself over master knees. God, this is so humiliating. He’s never been spanked as a child. He’s been slapped around often enough or beaten using anything lying around, such as a shoe or a wooden spoon, but never bent over the knee.

Master takes both his wrists in his hand and pins them at his lower back. He spread his legs wider to give him more of a support but he’s still dangling awkwardly over his lap. Master’s hand lands on his cheek a moment later with a resounding smack and a surprising strength. Erik’s eye go wide at the stinging, throbbing pain but he has barely any time to get used to the sensation before master’s raining hits one after the other, not holding back in the slightest.

Very soon Erik realizes just how wrong he was when he thought this punishment will be more humiliating than painful. Master is strong and merciless and he doesn’t show any signs of tiring.

“Ouch, master, fuck,” Erik huffs, trying to wriggle away from the pain. Master just twists his hand higher on his back, sending a warning stab of pain that makes him stay put.

“I’m sorry, master, oh god, please,” he wails after master repeatedly hits the sensitive underside of this ass.

“I want you to remember this every time you sit for at least few days,” master says, punctuating each word with a smack. By the time he stops, he’s a little breathless too, while Erik is a panting, sweaty mess. Master’s knees are the only thing holding him up and he’s long stopped caring about how humiliating the position is.

“Alright, we’re done,” he says softly, and soothingly rubs his abused flesh. “You’ll do better next time, won’t you?”

“Yes, master,” Erik agrees eagerly. Master lets go off his hands and he slides down, his knees hitting the ground.

“You can suck me off now,” he grunts and Erik notices master’s dick is straining hard against his pants. Quickly, he frees it from the underwear and gets to work, while master leans back on the sofa with a moan. Erik does his best to ignore his throbbing ass and focus on the task at hand and it doesn’t take long for master to finish, pulling at his hair roughly as he spends his seed into Erik’s throat.

“Good boy,” he says warmly when he tucks himself back in and Erik unashamedly nuzzle closer, seeking master’s gentle touch and reassurance. “Rest for a bit,” he says and Erik gratefully leans his head on master’s thigh.

Later on when master allows him to leave he goes find Jerry. His heart is pounding and he nervously wipes his sweaty palms on his pants. Fuck, he’s more scared than he was when they were called to master’s office. He’s scared Jerry won’t want to talk to him, won’t let him apologize. What if he hates him? What if he won’t want to hang out anymore?

He finally finds him in one of the spare bedrooms on the third floor. The room’s a mess; all sheets have been stripped and are strewn all around the floor, chairs are up on the table and the contents of the closet are piled on the bed, while Jerry’s wiping the dusty shelves.

“Jerry?” Erik says softly not to startle him. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I’m an idiot and I was selfish and I got you in trouble and I know you’re mad at me, and you should, I’m mad at myself too, but please? I swear I’ll do better and… I’ll… why aren’t you saying anything?” he asks miserably when Jerry just keeps looking at him incredulously.

Jerry throws the wet rag back in the bucket with a splash and then just starts to laugh. Erik gapes at him, definitely not expecting such a reaction, but then can’t but join him. They laugh until his stomach hurts and Jerry gasps for breath.

“Why the hell are we laughing?” Erik asks.

“I don’t know!” Jerry says, slightly hysterical, and wipes the tears from his eyes. “It’s just… I was always so terrified, imagining all the gruesome ways master would punish me if I ever disobeyed him. I thought for sure he was going to have me whipped, at the very least. And I got _grounded,_ ” he says in disbelief. “Fucking grounded. With a cleaning duty!”

Erik gives him a sad smile. It makes his heart hurt thinking why Jerry expected to be whipped. Was that how his old master punished his slaves? Did Jerry get whipped any time he displeased his master? Is that why Jerry’s always wearing long sleeved shirts with a high neckline, no matter how hot it gets?

“How about you?” Jerry ask, his mirth quickly replaced by worry. “Did you get grounded too?”

“Um, no,” Erik looks away, his cheeks turning pink.

“Oh,” Jerry frowns.

“But I’m fine. I am,” Erik hurries to reassure him. “And by the way, I can take care of your plants for you while you’re grounded.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jerry’s eyes go wide. “First, you know you’re not allowed and second, you’d just murder them. I’ll ask Dennis to water them.”

“Fair enough,” Erik grins. He’s not offended by Jerry’s lack of trust with handling his beloved plants. We wouldn’t trust himself either. Looking around the mess, his hands twitch to grab the rag and help Jerry but he’s not naïve enough to think master would approve.

“I should probably go,” he says apologetically, jamming his hands in his pockets. It’s almost dinner time and he’s promised himself to be on his best behavior. At least for a while. “I’ll see you around.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerry's punishment is over. Gabriel has a guest over and Erik has a rough time.

Jerry’s cleaning duty, it turns out, consists namely of doing all the work that has been piling up for months and no one wanted to do. He gives all spare bedrooms a deep cleaning, getting rid of every speck of dust, even under the beds and top of the wardrobes, and then goes from closet to closet, sorting out linens and towels and throwing out anything with holes or simply not up to master’s standard anymore.

Erik keeps following him around, still guilty as fuck, but Jerry doesn’t complain, not even when sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead and his fingers are all red and wrinkly from wringing out the rag for the hundredth time. He works diligently and restlessly, clearly determined to make up for his disobedience, and he’d probably skip lunch if Erik didn’t drag him to the kitchen. And it’s not like master comes check on him or inspects the quality of his work either. He couldn’t probably care less but Jerry is still taking his punishment quite seriously.

From time to time Jerry stares longingly out of the window into the garden, or watches nervously as Dennis hoses down the plants, grumbling under his breath about him doing it all wrong, but other than that he seems to take his confinement to the inside of the house quite well.

Out of solidarity, Erik avoids the garden too. He spends most of his time when master’s at work by Jerry’s side, sketching absentmindedly, while blasting cheesy pop songs out his laptop’s shitty speakers to make Jerry’s chores a bit more pleasant.

Clearly not everyone appreciates his choice of music or his off-key singing, though, as a moment later, Dennis barges through the door.

“Goodness, can you two keep it down for five damn minutes?” he asks, exasperated, and Erik kills the music, grinning apologetically at him. “Seriously, it sounds like a cat in heat in here.”

Jerry giggles and Erik throws him a hurt look. “I don’t know what you mean, I’m a great singer,” he grins and Dennis rolls his eyes.

“You’d better get downstairs, master just pulled in.”

His good mood evaporating, Erik quickly grabs his sketchbook and laptop and slinks out of the room. His stomach is always tied in knots a bit when master comes home. He never knows what mood he’s going to be in, if he’s going to smile and kiss him gently or if he’s going to drag him wordlessly to the bedroom and bend him over the bed to release some of his tension from a bad day at work.

It seems today it’s somewhere in the middle. He’s distracted by he still kisses Erik who’s waiting for him obediently by the door.

Later on, he follows him on his heels to the dining room, sinking down to his knees at his designated spot with a resigned sigh. He still hasn’t gotten used to being fed morsels of food from master’s fingers like a dog. At least now he only gets a few bites here and there and once master’s done with his food, he gets to sit down at the kitchen table and eat his own dinner.

A moment later Dennis enters and starts setting up the table, placing a plate in front of master.

“Turn on the lights, will you?” master says absentmindedly and only now does Erik notice how dark it’s gotten outside. The strong wind is making the trees outside the window bow and a few occasional lightings bright up the room, followed by a distant rumble of thunder.

“Why the hell is Jerry pacing by the garden door like a caged lion?” mistress asks, amused, as she enters the dining room and sits down in her chair at the table.

“Because I grounded him,” master answers easily and mistress gives a low whistle.

“For what?”

“Disobedience,” he shrugs and mistress chuckles.

“Disobedience? Jerry? Are you sure you got the right one?”

Erik doesn’t miss the way she looks at him and he squares his shoulders, trying to keep himself from glaring black.

“Oh, don’t be mistaken, Erik had his fingers in it, too,” he says, reaching down to fondly ruffle his hair and Erik feels a phantom sting of pain on his ass.

After dinner, as they leave the dining room, they find Jerry by the window, looking out into the garden. He’s no longer pacing but he’s sitting at the window sill, taut as a bowstring, biting the nail of his thumb nervously, his face plastered to the glass.

Erik gives him a worried look as they walk by but Jerry doesn’t pay him any attention. He only glances desperately at master, taking a breath as if to say something, and then bites his lip and sags in defeat, turning back to the window.

“Alright,” master sighs, long-sufferingly, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What is it?”

“It’s – um, there’s a storm coming,” Jerry pipes up.

“Yes. So?” master shrugs.

“The—the plants, the potted plants and my seedlings, they’re all going to get ruined,” he says miserably, clearly resigned. Master watches him for a bit, considering, before pulling out his phone and quickly tapping something.

“You have fifteen minutes,” he says, putting the phone back into his pocket, and walks off. Erik has no option but to follow. Looking over his shoulder, he smiles when he sees Jerry’s eyes grow wide, his hand going to the collar instinctively, before he quickly runs out into the garden and starts to drag the plants into safety.

On the morning of the eighth day, Jerry keeps subtly glancing at master as he serves him breakfast and then nervously hovers around as master’s getting ready for work.

“Okay, come here,” master finally gives in and snaps his finger. Jerry eagerly sinks to his knees in front of him and Erik watches master press his thumb to a hidden pad at the back of the collar. It opens with a whir and Erik can hear Jerry take a shaky breath of relief as it comes off.

“Your punishment is over,” he says gently. “I hope you learned your lesson.”

“Yes, master,” Jerry nods his head so hard his curls bounce around him.

“Good boy. Go on, then.”

Jerry gets up, giving master a shy smile and is out in the garden.

Master then pulls Erik closer, kissing him deeply, making his head swim a little.

“Be good, I’ll be back earlier today. Oh and make yourself presentable before I come back,” he says and Erik does not like the way he looks at him. “I’ll be having a guest over tonight.”

“A guest, master?” Erik croaks out as his heart drops down to his stomach. “But—who? w--?”

Master just smiles, patting Erik’s cheek and leaves, Erik’s questions dying on his lips. _Fuck_ , he swears under his breath. It’s that colleague of his, isn’t? Why the hell can’t master ever tell him anything? And what does it even mean to make himself presentable?

He keeps worrying about it for the rest of the day, his nerves making him shaky and nauseated. He keeps pacing the bedroom, biting his lip until it’s all red and puffy. As the evening draws nearer and he can’t put it off any longer, he hops in the shower and rubs himself clean, paying special attention to his crotch region, while trying to keep his mind carefully blank and not let it wander to what is awaiting him.

It’s not easy; his heart is thundering in his chest but he still makes him go through all the motions: he dries his hair, brushes his teeth, puts on the skinniest pair of black jeans his owns and a fancy dark shirt with golden embroidery and ridiculously low neckline.

When he’s as ready as he can get, he knows he’s going to fall apart if he has to pace the room any longer and so he runs downstairs, heading straight to the garden where he knows Jerry will be, putting all of his beloved plants into order after his absence.

“I need you to do my hair,” he says, breathlessly, and Jerry looks up at him, surprised.

“Alright,” he says cautiously. “What’s the occasion?”

“Master’s having a guest over. What the hell does that mean? Is it like a formal dinner with one drink or is it like a wild party until early morning? Does he ever bring people over?”

“Sometimes,” Jerry shrugs. “It’s usually just dinner and then some drinks. Wild parties are more mistress’ thing.”

Erik sinks onto the soft grass and hugs his knees, not feeling reassured in the slightest. He’s scared; being with master feels pretty familiar by now but the idea of having to perform with someone else terrifies him. He shudders and Jerry gives him a sad look. He doesn’t say anything and Erik’s grateful. He really doesn’t want to hear meaningless reassurances that it’s going to be alright. Jerry doesn’t know that and Erik doesn’t either. All he can do is hope for the best.

At least he tries to enjoy the moment of peacefulness as Jerry gently braids a few strands of hair and creates a half-up half-down hair-do. It looks good, Erik admires himself in a glass reflection. Simple but elegant.

“Thank you,” he says. “You don’t happen to have any makeup, do you?”

“No, sorry,” Jerry huffs.

“Mistress does, though, doesn’t she?”

“Are you out of your mind?” Jerry hisses, looking around in fear. “Do you seriously want another caning?”

“I’m not going to sneak into her bedroom and go through her makeup,” Erik rolls his eyes. “But isn’t there like some discarded stuff she doesn’t use? An eyeliner, maybe a bit of concealer?”

As it turns out, there’s a whole bag of makeup leftovers at the bottom of one of the closets that Jerry discovered during his punishment clean-up. Most of it is either broken or old and way expired but Erik still manages to salvage a few things.

“I have no idea if this is allowed,” Jerry says nervously. “Oh my god, what if master’s going to get angry?”

“Relax, he’s not even going to notice, I’m not going to go overboard. And I’ll say I found the bag myself if it comes to it.”

He lines his eyes thinly to make them pop up a bit and touches his eyelashes with a mascara. Finally, he uses a concealer to hide the dark circles under his eyes.

“Not bad, huh?” he inspects himself in the mirror.

“Yeah. You’re actually pretty good at this,” Jerry says, sounding impressed.

Erik grins but his smiles quickly slips away as he hears the familiar rumble of engine announcing master’s return. Quickly he hides all make up under the sink and hurries to take his position by the door, his nerves returning in full force.

Jerry follows him, hovering nearby unsurely. As they hear the car door slam shut, he quickly slips his hand in Erik’s and squeezes reassuringly before making himself scarce.

Master stops dead in his track when sees Erik. After a moment of stunned silence, he laughs, taking Erik’s chin, tilting his face to get a better look at him.

“Look at you,” he says darkly, “I didn’t think you could look even more gorgeous but here you are.”

Erik smiles shyly and presses his face in master’s palm. He needs master’s affection now more than ever. All his hopes are riding on master’s protectiveness and possessiveness and his unwillingness to share him, as he said last time.

“Where’d you get the makeup,” master narrows his eyes then, all warmness gone from his voice, and Erik’s stomach drops all over again. He really hoped master wouldn’t notice.

“I—it was—I found it in a closet, there was a bag full of old stuff, I didn’t – I swear I didn’t…”

“Okay, alright,” master raises his hand to stop his terrified blabbering. “It really does look nice on you. I’m going to order you your own set. The old stuff’s nasty,” he clucks his tongue disapprovingly. “Oh, here they are,” he lights up, as the sound of another car driving in carries through the open windows.

Master opens the door and Erik falls a step behind, bowing his head and clasping his hands behind his back. Oh fuck, or should he kneel? He has no idea what he’s doing.

“Gabriel!” the man greets master and Erik recognizes the voice from before.

“Tony, come on in.”

They shake hands and master steps back to let him in. The man walks inside, followed by another figure, and Erik absolutely cannot contain his curiosity as he glances up. Ignoring master’s colleague, he steals a quick glance at the slave behind him and his jaw drops, terror gripping his heart anew.

The boy looks nothing like he expected, nothing like what he thought all pleasure slaves looked like – small, delicate and feminine. He’s at least a head taller than Erik and he’s _built_. Even clothed as he is, Erik can see the muscles in his shoulders and his biceps must be larger than Erik’s thighs. He looks like he could snap Erik in half and not break a sweat.

Erik’s unable to tear his gaze from him and their eyes meet as the boy looks up. He has pale skin and black short-cropped hair and thick dark eyebrows that draw as he takes Erik in, before going back to glaring menacingly at the floor. He looks absolutely terrifying and Erik subconsciously takes a step closer to master.

Master and his guest exchange some pleasantries but Erik barely listens. He quickly snaps back when master turns to him.

“Erik, take Zach to the kitchen and get us something to drink. Tell Tracy they can start serving dinner.”

Erik nods and swiftly heads to the kitchen, painfully aware of the boy silently following him. He curses internally when he finds the kitchen empty and he quickly puts as much distance between them as the room allows, glaring at the stranger defiantly, hoping it’s not obvious just how terrified he is.

“Hi,” the boy smiles and Erik blinks in surprise. “I’m Zach.”

“Um,” Erik says, taking a few steps back when Zach comes towards him.

“It’s Erik, right?” he supplies for him and luckily stops, staying a safe distance away.

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Erik. We haven’t met before I think, though I of course know your master.”

“You do?” he asks curiously, his shoulders sagging as some of the tension leaves him.

“Sure. Master always brings me to these corporate events as entertainment, you know?” he says easily and then starts looking around the kitchen. “Where are the glasses?”

“Take those crystal ones from the top shelf. Wait, what do you mean entertainment?” he asks, horrified.

“Oh, you know how these parties are. A lot of alcohol, a bunch of horny suits, it always ends the same. Just like it’s going to end tonight, if you ask me. Do you have whiskey?”

Erik points wordlessly to the liquor cabinet and Zach studies the labels of the bottles there. “Hm, yes, this one should do, what do you think?”

His face falls when he takes in Erik’s pale face and wide eyes.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asks softly, watching him with concern.

“I—uh, I think so,” Erik answers. “I’m sorta… new to this,” he admits quietly. He knows he shouldn’t make himself vulnerable in front of a stranger like that, but he can’t help but like Zach, despite the first impression he got of him.

Zach sighs unhappily, and takes a few steps closer. This time, Erik stays put.

“I’m sorry. That sucks. I’m not gonna lie, though, my master loves to see me fuck other slaves. I’ll do my best to make this easy for you, okay? I know I’m big down there but I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh god,” Erik sputters.

Luckily, that’s when Tracy enters and puts an end to their awkward conversation.

“Zach!” she smiles brightly and kisses his cheek affectionately, while Erik stares at them, surprised.

“Hey, Tracy. You wouldn’t happen to have made that cheesecake of yours, would you? I’ve been dreaming about it since the last time I was here. Master _never_ lets me eat anything sweet, gotta keep that body fat under fifteen percent and all that,” he winks at Erik.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t know you were coming. I made brownies, though, here,” she cuts off a piece from the plate and Zach quickly slips it in his mouth, moaning.

“Oh fuck, this is the good stuff. Come, Erik, better not keep them waiting.”

He puts the whiskey with glasses and a box of ice on a tray and Erik admires the way he confidently balances it all as they head to the dining room.

“You’re so lucky to have Tracy as your cook, she’s awesome,” he chats on as they walk down the hall. “It’s just me and master at home, all I get is those nasty protein shakes and bland pre-made meals,” he grimaces and Erik feels a stab of pity.

“What does your master eat, then?” Erik wonders.

“Oh, he orders from all these fancy restaurants,” he shrugs. They’re almost at the door and he stops, quickly turning to Erik.

“Do I have chocolate in my teeth?” he whispers, leaning closer, showing off his perfect set of teeth, and Erik shakes his head.

“Good,” he breaths out and then runs his tongue all over his teeth anyway.

They fall silent as they enter the dining room. Erik goes to kneel by his master’s side while Zach skillfully serves drinks and then takes his place on the ground next to his master. His face turns blank again as he stares at the ground. Fuck, he really does have an intimidating resting face.

The dinner is a boring affair; the two men discuss various work projects and Erik soon zones out. He’s fed bits and pieces throughout the meal and he can’t but notice Zach doesn’t get anything at all. When deserts come, master slips him a piece of smooth, chocolaty brownie and he eats it guiltily, while Zach does his best to look away.

After dinner, masters move with their drinks to the parlor, a cozy room with large soft armchairs and plush carpet all over the floor. Zach’s master snaps his fingers and Zach gracefully takes off all his clothes. Glancing at master for guidance, he follows his lead and then they both kneel by their masters’ feet. Zach looks completely at ease, like a statute of some Greek god with his perfectly sculptured body and not for the first time, Erik feel too pasty, too skinny, too… everything.

At first the topics keeps revolving around work but after a while, there’s a lull in the conversation and Erik feels the master’s colleague stare at him, the hair on his neck raising.

“He really is such a cute little thing, isn’t he?”

“Oh yes,” master says fondly, reaching down to pet his hair.

“Is he well trained, then?”

“Oh, he’s _impeccably_ trained,” master says, waving his hand wildly, and Erik goes rigid. What the fuck. Oh no, master needs to shut up, right fucking _now._

“Hm,” master’s colleague huffs, not sounding too convinced. “I’ve trained Zach myself. It took years to get him where he is now but trust me, he won’t come until I allow him to, no matter what.”

“Oh yeah, Erik’s has a perfect control over his orgasms too,” he says confidently and Erik wants to groan. There’s a barely audible slur to his words but he can still tell master’s getting pretty drunk. Under the table, he catches Zach’s eyes and the other slave gives him a sympathetic look.

“I bet he wouldn’t last ten minutes against Zach,” Zach’s master laughs gleefully. “No offence, but he does look a bit… unexperienced.”

Erik curses himself. Is he really that obvious?

“Oh, you’re so _on,_ ” master says heatedly and Erik feels his throat close up.

“Alright!” Zach’s master claps his hands excitedly. “Hey, wanna make the wager sweeter? What about some prize for the winner?”

“Hm, what’d you have in mind?”

“What about—whoever loses has to go that boring conference next week? You know how I hate these dull things.”

“You drive a hard bargain, don’t you? Well, fine!”

“I’ll even make it easier for you, Zach won’t be allowed to use his hands at all.”

He then leans down and grabs Zach’s short hair, whispering something in the slave’s ear. Erik could swear he saw a flicker of fear on the boy’s face before he schools his expression again.

Reluctantly, Erik makes himself get up and walks to the middle of the room. Zach kneels in front of him, his face blank and unreadable.

“Ten minutes. If Zach manages to make Erik come before the time runs out, you win. Go!”

Master taps a button on his phone and then places it on the table, screen up. Zach wastes no time and takes Erik’s dick in his mouth. He doesn’t go easy on him, either; there’s no teasing, he simply swallows him whole and starts bobbing his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks and twirling his tongue, clearly using every trick in the book.

Masters watch them for a moment, the wet slurping the only sound in the room.

“Well, anyway,” master’s colleague says after a minute and turns back to master. “It’s Monica’s last day tomorrow, there’s going to be cake and champaign in the afternoon.”

They go back to talking as if nothing was out of the ordinary while Erik struggles to keep the panic down. Zach’s _good_. It can’t have been more than a couple of minutes and already he feels dangerously close to the edge. He tries counting down from hundred in his head or imagining the least sexy scenarios he can think of but it doesn’t really work. He fists his hands so hard he feels his nails dig into his palms, the pain helping a bit but not for long.

“Zach!” he breathes out desperately, hoping masters won’t hear him. “Please.”

Zach glances up at him apologetically but doesn’t slow down. If anything, he doubles his efforts and Erik feels tears spring into his eyes, knowing there’s no way he’s going to be able to hold out. He doesn’t come as much as his orgasm is ripped out of him and he lets out a strangled cry, while a mix of cheers and disappointed groans come from the table.

Zach milks him dry and turns around to his master, opening his mouth to show off Erik’s load before swallowing.

“There’s a good boy,” Zach’s master rubs his hands, satisfied, and then peeks at the screen. “Seven minutes and twenty seconds. I guess it could be worse, right, Gabe?”

Erik stays frozen to the spot, his head swimming. He fucking lost. Couldn’t even last ten minutes, fucking useless. He starts to shake, suddenly cold, and swallows the tears. He hates Zach so much right now. Fucking liar, why did he tell him he’d go easy on him if he wasn’t going to? He could have let him win. He just didn’t want to.

“Oh well,” master says slowly. “I always liked how responsive he is, anyway. Do you want him to return the favor?”

“Sure.”

Erik feels a pang of desperation. He would kill for a gentle touch from master right now, for a kind word or reassurance that it doesn’t matter and that he’s not in trouble. Instead he makes himself go on his knees and shakes his head to get his muddled mind to focus.

Zach wasn’t lying when he said he was big. Even soft he’s an intimidating length and Erik does his best to suck him but it’s awkward and fumbling.

“Make him go deeper,” Zach’s master growls from the table. For a moment, Erik desperately hopes for master to put a stop to this but when nothing comes, Zach grabs his hair with both hands and pulls Erik down on his dick until he gags. He slightly changes his stance, angling his hips a little in a way that puts Erik a bit out of masters’ view and then continues to fuck Erik’s mouth in what looks like harsh thrusts but doesn’t actually cut off Erik’s breath. Erik’s immensely grateful when he realizes what he’s doing.

After a long time Zach’s breath finally starts to quicken and Erik hopes he might be getting close.

“All right, that’s enough,” Zach’s master says and Zach instantly lets go of Erik. “He already came once this week, I don’t want to spoil him too much.”

He snaps his finger and obediently Zach returns to master’s side, his dick still hard and angry red between his legs. Feeling utterly drained, Erik crawls back to his spot, not daring to lift his eyes, afraid he’d start bawling if he saw the disappointment in master’s eyes.

Master reaches down, taking hold of his collar and Erik freezes in fear. All master does, though, is drag him up and push his head to rest on master’s thigh. Letting out a shaky breath of relief, Erik gratefully nuzzles closer, and blocks everything around him as he closes his eyes.

He doesn’t remember much from the rest of the night but he thinks it’s not much longer before the two men part. Master sways a bit as they walk to the bedroom and then collapses onto the bed right after kicking off his clothes in uncoordinated movements.

“I’m sorry, master,” Erik says softly, sitting hesitantly on the edge of the bed. He feels like he has to say it otherwise he won’t get any sleep tonight.

“Don’t be, sweetheart,” master pulls him close, wrapping his arms and legs around him. “I thought you were wonderful,” he mumbles before immediately falling asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what to say about this chapter. I've staring at it for days and I haven't gotten any happier with it so... screw it. Also, if you ever wanna chat, feel free to come say hi: https://discord.gg/zTf4Yjw


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this chapter is so late. A bout of puking passed through my family and I struggled with motivation a lot. I rewrote this chapter like three times and was on the brink of giving up so then I was like, screw it, I'm just going to post and move on.

He blinks blearily as he wakes up, his eyes caked in old mascara, and his stomach sinks when he realizes he’s alone. There’s no sound coming from the bathroom either and when Erik finally gets his eyes to focus, he sees it’s almost ten in the morning and master must be at work.

The thought feels like a heavy stone in his stomach. Master must be really pissed now that he sobered up to leave for work without even waking him to kiss him goodbye, as he usually does.

As scared as he is of facing master, he still shamelessly wishes he was here, feeling like he will crawl out of his skin in this suffocating silence. He’d probably gladly take a flogging right now if it meant he’d get to curl up in master’s arms afterward.

Stupid needy fool, he curses himself, as tears spring into his eyes and he grabs master’s pillow, burying his nose in the fabric to get some of the familiar smell, hating how comforting it is and tries his hardest to go back to sleep.

Some time later, he’s woken up by a knock on the door. He sits up, looking around himself in confusion, unable to make his sluggish mind to focus.

“It’s me,” comes Jerry’s soft voice and Erik lets out a breath as he quickly jumps out of the bed to open the door. He’s holding a tray in his hand with a cup of tea and a plate with eggs and bacon.

“I thought you might wanna eat upstairs today,” Jerry says and then looks Erik up and down. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Erik sighs tiredly and leans against the door frame. Why the hell does he feel so shitty? It’s like he’s hung over though he hasn’t had a sip of alcohol. He’s not feeling very hungry either, but he makes himself take the plate from Jerry. “Thanks.”

“Right,” Jerry hesitates. He looks like he’s about to leave and Erik feels a pang of panic.

“Wait, come in. Please?” He knows Jerry probably has a lot to do as it is and maybe he’s not even allowed in master’s bedroom but he really doesn’t want to be alone right now.

After a beat of hesitation, Jerry takes a step in, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around. Erik sits on the bed and places the tray next to him. Master would probably smack him if he saw him eating in bed, but fuck him.

“You ever been in here?” Erik asks as he takes the first bite, forcing it down his uneasy stomach.

“Just once.”

“Oh. Oh, right,” Erik suddenly remembers what Tracy told him about master’s attempt to make Jerry a bed slave and cringes. Deep inside, Erik’s eternally glad it didn’t work out with Jerry. Just thinking about him being in Erik’s shoes makes his stomach turn. All the shit he has to deal with, he doesn’t think Jerry would handle it too well. Or maybe he underestimates him.

With a sigh, Jerry sits next to him, hugging one leg to his chest. They’re quiet for a while, both lost in thought. Erik feels the anger, ugly and hot, simmer just beneath surface. He’s pissed at master, as much as he tries to stomp the emotion down. He’s mad at him for never telling him anything, for running his drunk mouth, for expecting Erik to… what? Have perfect control over his orgasm?

It’s not fair. None of it is fair, never has been, but the unfairness tastes particularly bitter today.

Jerry reaches out, gently touching his hair, and Erik flinches.

“Do you want me to take care of this?”

Oh right. Erik didn’t take down his hair yesterday, or even brush it. Not to mention he still has the makeup on. He must look like a racoon. A raccoon that got dragged through a bush.

“Please,” he says tiredly. “Brush’s in the bathroom.”

Jerry fetches it and then starts to carefully undo the braids. Once all braids are gone, he gently brushes out the knots, working slowly from the bottom while Erik eats his breakfast. It takes a long time, with Jerry being so careful not to pull, but Erik’s glad he’s the one doing it. Erik would have probably ripped half his hair out in anger and frustration if he were to do it now.

“Tracy told me Zach asked her to tell you he’s sorry,” Jerry says after a while and Erik groans. He wishes he could tell him he has nothing to be sorry about but they’re long gone and he’ll probably never see him again. He feels stupid now for hating him yesterday. He was just mad that he lost and made master look bad but he can’t bring himself to resent Zach. They all need to fend for themselves, after all. And Zach’s master didn’t seem like someone to mess with.

Erik shudders just thinking about him, his hard face and barked orders. He didn’t look like a guy who’d let his slave stay in bed to cuddle after he fucks him. The thought immediately puts a damper on Erik’s self-righteous anger. It could always be so much worse. And Zach said there are no other slaves in his household, he remembers. The poor guy. Erik would have gone crazy if he didn’t have anyone to let his mask down with.

“Do you know him? Zach, I mean?”

“No, not really,” Jerry shrugs. “I’ve seen him a couples of times when his master came over but I usually just hide somewhere out of sight so I never talked to him. Tracy was helping with catering of some of the parties, so I know she met him there.”

Erik genuinely hopes he’ll never get to see any of these parties. Though he’d sort of like to see Zach again even though that would most likely mean he’d have… perform with him again.

Once he can’t force any more food down, he quickly washes his face and then returns to bed while Jerry gathers the dirty plates.

“I think I’m gonna rest for a bit,” he says, curling under the blanket. He’s too embarrassed to think about what happened and dreads to think about what is going to happen, knowing his mind will conjure the worst possible scenarios just to torture him. Luckily, he feels himself falling blissfully asleep as soon as he closes his eyes.

\--°°--

Gabriel rubs his forehead, trying to soothe the dull headache, as he squints his eyes at the screen, trying to make his mind focus. He shouldn’t have had the last drink. There’s probably a lot more he shouldn’t have done yesterday.

Thinking back to yesterday, he feels equals parts ashamed and aroused. He knows he promised Dennis he’d go easy on the boy and last night was nothing but easy on him. He looked so in over his head, Gabriel can’t but feel a stab of pity for him.

He shouldn’t have risen to the bait, shouldn’t have bragged about Erik’s practically non-existent training. He knew all too well that Erik was going to lose but he wanted to see him try anyway. He absolutely enjoyed the view, too; the memory of Erik’s wide eyes as he desperately tried not to come goes right to his dick. It was hot and it seemed like a good idea at the time but now, sober and hung over, he’s not so sure.

And now not only does he have to go to that stupid conference but Erik probably hates him right now, too. A restlessness settles under his skin and he checks the time again, suddenly yearning to be home.

As much as he wishes he could have stayed in bed with Erik and cuddle, he always tries to make an appearance when someone from his team is leaving. Eat a piece of cake, give a toast, chat a bit and then he’s off. And he’s really going to miss Monica, if only for selfish reasons. She was a great secretary and it’s going to be pain in the ass trying to replace her.

“It’s time, are you coming?” Tony calls from outside his office and Gabriel quickly shuts his computer and packs his things.

Tony grins at him when he catches up to him. He looks surprisingly fresh for how late they stayed up yesterday.

“It was fun yesterday, huh?” he says quietly as they head to the kitchen.

“It was,” Gabriel agrees.

“I can totally see the appeal of that boy of yours. He’s not my type, of course, but he is sort of adorable. I told you he’d look cute with my Zach. Oh, I’d love to see him fuck him,” he says longingly, glancing at Gabriel.

“Hm,” Gabriel hums non-committally. “Not a fan of the idea, I’ll be honest.”

“Ah, it’s fine,” Tony waves his hand, clearly not too disappointed. “You should still come to my place next time. I have a few new toys I wanna show you,” he winks

“Sounds good.”

They part as they reach the kitchen. Gabriel goes mingle, exchanging small talk with practiced ease, smiling politely, even as his mind is miles away. He still listens to Monica complain about her husband’s last-minute reassignment and the pain of moving at such a short notice, being unable to find someone to take over her lease.

As soon as Gabriel deems he stayed long enough not to be considered impolite, he excuses himself and hurries to his car.

Erik isn’t waiting for him when he comes home, like he usually is. It’s Dennis who comes welcome him. He gives him a distinctly reproachful look and Gabriel feels his anger flare up.

“What?” he snaps at him and Dennis promptly lowers his eyes.

“Nothing, master,” he says flatly and Gabriel sighs.

“Where’s Erik?”

“He hasn’t left the bedroom all day, master.”

“Hm.”

Gabriel takes the stairs by two in his hurry and is slightly out of breath by the time he barges in through the door.

Erik jerks awake, looking around himself in alarm, before he notices Gabriel and his eyes go wide.

“I-uh, I’m sorry, master, I didn’t—I must have fallen asleep,” he mutters nervously as he hastily untangles himself from the blanket. He’s about to slide down from the bed to his knees but Gabriel raises his hand to stop him. Erik freezes, looking at Gabriel expectantly with a barely hidden apprehension.

With a sigh, Gabriel kicks off his shoes and gets on the bed, too. Erik’s unable to hide a flinch but he stays put, biting his lip. It only now occurs to Gabriel that maybe the boy’s expecting to be punished for yesterday. Gabriel has no intention of doing so, of course, but did he tell him that? He thinks so, but his memories of the end of the evening and him getting into bed are hazy at best.

Leaning against the headboard, he opens his arms invitingly.

“C’mere,” he says softly and Erik’s shoulders sag as he shuffles closer. Hesitantly he wraps his arms around Gabriel’s chest and hides his face in Gabriel’s shirt.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Gabriel says unhappily, running his hand through Erik’s hair and over his back, feeling how rigid and tense he is. “It’s alright. You know I’m not mad at you, right?”

Erik doesn’t answer and Gabriel holds him closer, petting him gently, waiting for the boy to relax. It doesn’t happen, though, and Erik stay weirdly stiff and eerily silent.

“I shouldn’t have left you here alone,” he admits softly, more to himself than anything. “Look, I thought you were amazing yesterday. You were so good for me and I’m very proud of you, actually.”

Erik shivers at the words and his breath hitches. He nuzzles closer and his shoulders start to shake as he lets out a quiet sob. Sighing unhappily, Gabriel runs a soothing hand on his back. They stay like for a long time, until Gabriel’s hands and ass are all numb, yet Erik doesn’t show any signs of wanting to let go.

“Alright, let me up,” he says when Erik becomes a dead weight in his arms. The boy whines in protest, lifting his head, looking at Gabriel with sleepy eyes.

“But I’m so comfy, master,” he pouts and Gabriel chuckles.

“Come on, up!” he orders and reluctantly, Erik moves. “Have you even showered after yesterday?”

Embarrassed, Erik lowers his eyes and shakes his head. They end up taking a bath together, both fitting easily into the large tub, and Gabriel sighs contently as he pulls Erik’s back to his chest and Erik rests his head on Gabriel’s shoulder.

The feeling of his slender body against him in the warm water brings back his arousal and he nibs at his neck from behind hungrily. His erection is poking at Erik’s back and the boy goes rigid for a beat before he swallows and turns slightly to kiss Gabriel back.

Sitting up on the lip of the tub, Gabriel impatiently grabs Erik and turns him around. The boy slips in the water and his eyes go wide with panic as he struggles for purchase for a moment. Gabriel steadies him until he’s able to put his knees under him and then pushes his head down to his dick.

Erik sucks him while desperately holding onto Gabriel’s thighs, probably not to slip again in the tub. It doesn’t take long for Gabriel to come, the memory of yesterday still fresh in his mind, and Erik seems relieved enough to swallow his come and lick his dick clean.

Afterward, Gabriel takes his time scrubbing Erik clean and washing his hair. He subjects to the ministrations easily enough, though there’s a lingering stiffness in his posture and a closed-off look on his face. Later in the bed, though, he still curls against Gabriel, who sighs contently, knowing everything’s going to be fine in the end.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel leaves for two days for a conference. It's nowhere near as much fun as Erik thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A surprise update:) Enjoy

Over the next few days, everything slowly settles back to normal. Erik is slightly colder and more distant at first but Gabriel gives him time and space to deal with his feelings in his own time. He’ll come around eventually, Gabriel’s sure.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Gabriel says as he’s leaving for work that day. “Order yourself some make up, here’s my card.”

Erik frowns and doesn’t reach for the golden Visa at first. Gabriel raises his eyebrows questioningly and only then does Erik reluctantly take it from his fingers with a terse nod. Later, when he’s at work, he gets a receipt in his email and he chuckles when he opens it. Clearly, he should have been a bit less vague, because Erik’s idea of ‘some’ make up is a two-page long list of items, the name of which Gabriel has never heard, and the end sum is pretty impressive, too. It also doesn’t escape Gabriel’s attention that the order overview includes a set of watercolors and some watercolor paper.

Gabriel shakes his head but decides to let Erik’s little rebellion slide. Afterall, he deserves to have some nice things. Especially if it makes him feel better about what happened.

The week flies by and on Sunday evening, Gabriel takes out his bag with a sigh and opens it on the bed.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he says to Erik, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching him. “You’ll be good, won’t you?”

“Yes, master,” Erik nods and puts down the sketchbook. “Let me help,” he sighs and takes the shirt Gabriel threw carelessly into the bag and folds it neatly, grumbling, “It’s gonna get all wrinkled.”

Gabriel smiles, watching Erik fondly as he packs the rest of Gabriel’s things, organizing everything perfectly in the small bag.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Where would I be without you,” he kisses him gently once he finishes and Erik gives him an adorable goofy smile. Oh, Gabriel knew he wouldn’t stay mad.

“Okay, so—rules,” Gabriel gets serious again and Erik heaves a barely audible sigh. “I want you to keep to your schedule – eat your meals, no junk food, no staying up late. Are we clear?”

“Yes, master.”

“I mean it. I’ll be cutting off your internet at 10 pm.”

“Okay, master,” Erik says with a roll of his eyes that Gabriel pretends he didn’t see.

“Dennis is in charge, as always. Don’t give him any trouble. Don’t think I won’t find out. Oh, and also, no leaving the house with Jerry while I’m gone.”

At that, Erik’s face falls but he nods reluctantly nonetheless.

“Great. Last thing, then.”

Gabriel reaches into his bag and pulls out the brand-new cock cage he bought earlier. It’s light, made of soft black silicon, with a lock at the base. He deliberately chose one he thought would be the most comfortable for Erik to wear, though he doubts the boy will appreciate his concern.

As expected, Erik pales at the sight of it and takes a step back, shaking his head frantically.

“No. Master, please, I swear I’ll be good. There’s no need for…. _that._ Please.”

“Erik, stop,” Gabriel orders sternly. “This is not up for discussion. Come here.”

“Master, please,” Erik pleads even as he takes one shaky step forward. “Please don’t leave me with this thing on, please.”

There’s genuine fear in Erik’s voice and Gabriel can’t help but feel a bit bad for him. “It’s only for two days,” he says gently, reaching out to pull Erik closer. “You can do two nights. And I’ll leave one key with Dennis. If there’s any kind of emergency, he will take it off.”

Erik shakes his head mutely but doesn’t argue, probably understanding how futile that would be. He clenches his eyes shut but doesn’t fight him when Gabriel pulls down his pants and easily locks the cage on. He double-checks that it fits and that it doesn’t pinch skin or hurt Erik in any way before he pockets the keys, satisfied.

“How does it feel?” he asks and then chuckles at the seething look Erik shoots him.

“I fucking hate it, master,” he grits out.

“Oh well. I’ll be back before you know it, don’t worry.”

\--°°--

Master leaves early the next day to catch his flight while Erik stays in bed, wallowing in his misery for a while. He tries tugging at the thing but soon gives up, seeing it’s not going anywhere. With a huff, he jumps out of bed, throws on the loosest clothing he has, and runs downstairs to find Dennis.

“Can you give me the key?” he asks bluntly without a word of greeting.

Dennis lifts his eyes from his tablet, surprised, and then gives Erik a scrutinizing look. “Why?”

“Because I hate it, that’s why. Please?”

Dennis sighs, takings off his reading glasses and putting the tablet away. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry.”

“But… Dennis!” Erik whines. “I need it off. And it’s not like he’ll find out.”

“No,” Dennis shakes his head resolutely. “What if he comes home earlier? There are things you can get away with and things you can’t. This is not something you want to risk. Master trusts me with the key and I will not betray the trust that took decades to earn. Do you understand what I mean?” he asks patiently and Erik deflates.

“Fine,” he mumbles.

“Thank you. That being said, I will help you if you really need it, okay?”

Erik just grunts in assent before reluctantly stalking away. Rationally, he knows Dennis is right but that doesn’t make it any easier. Taking a deep breath, he tries to clear his head and ignore the stupid cage. It’s just two days, as master ever-so-graciously reminded him. Ramming his hands into his pockets to keep himself from nervously adjusting his pants yet again, he heads to the garden. He really needs a distraction.

As expected, he finds Jerry hands-deep in soil and makes himself comfortable on the grass next to him.

“What’s wrong?” Jerry asks as he takes Erik in.

“You don’t wanna know,” Erik shakes his head. “So what are you doing?” he asks, eager to change the topic. He’ll gladly listen to one of Jerry’s passionate lectures about flowers if it means he doesn’t have to think about his trapped dick.

As always, Jerry is happy to oblige, grateful for anyone willing to listen to his rants, and they spend the morning pleasantly. Erik closes his eyes, enjoying the warm sun on his face and slight breeze on his skin. Oh, what he would give to be where he is now not that long time ago. And look at him now, how fast he started to take things like fresh air for granted.

Suddenly, Jerry stops mid-sentence and Erik opens his eyes in confusion. Jerry’s gone tense and silent and it’s only when Erik sees mistress approaching them that he understands why.

She leisurely strolls to them and they both bow their heads respectfully in greeting. She flicks her fingers subtly at her side and immediately, Jerry drops everything he’s doing and he scrambles off, giving mistress a wide berth.

Once they’re alone, mistress just watches him and Erik fidgets, unnerved by the silence. His heart starts to pound in his chest as he realizes his position. Without master here, mistress is pretty much free to do anything to him. That didn’t take her long to come for him, he thinks bitterly. Master probably hasn’t even landed yet.

“Get up,” she finally orders and Erik stands up, keeping his head down. She’s standing uncomfortably close and when she grabs his chin to tilt his face, he swallows hard.

“Go wash up and come to the studio. Oh, and bring that sketchbook of yours.”

Without waiting for Erik’s confirmation, she turns around and leaves, while Erik stays frozen, trying to get his shaking legs to move. Fuck, he breathes out. Fucking stupid, why did he think he’ll get two days off while master’s gone? Why can’t everyone just let him _be_ for two stupid days?

Quickly wiping his eyes, he sets his teeth and heads for the house. He takes a quick and angry shower, refusing to let his mind wonder as to _why_ mistress has asked him to wash up, and grabs his sketchbook before leaving the bedroom.

Clutching the well-used leather book to his chest, he drags his feet to mistress’ studio. He curses himself for being so careless, thinking his sketchbook is really his. At the beginning, he contemplated keep one with only some flowers and landscapes, something he wouldn’t mind showing, and the other one with his more personal drawings. But then again, master promised not to look and he didn’t think mistress would ever care to see it _again._

He really doesn’t want mistress to see. Every little sketch in that book is a frozen memory, a moment in time. Things and places he enjoys, his peaceful afternoons with Jerry in the garden, even master, in moments when he was sweet and kind and Erik couldn’t believe how lucky he is to be with him.

All too soon he reaches the studio and makes himself knock, even as a feeling of despair threatens to swallow him.

“Come in,” he hears her call and steps inside. She’s leaning against a table, wearing a colorful summer dress that flows loosely down to her knees, her pink hair tied up in a high pony tail.

“Well?” she gestured with a black-polished finger and Erik swallows when he notices a riding crop lying on the table next to her hand. “Let me see.”

Reluctantly he hands over his sketchbook. When she starts to leaf through it, smirking, he can’t watch. It’s like someone is digging around in his head, judging him, and he hates it. Instead, he looks around, studying all the canvases lying around, propped against the wall or stacked in piles.

A series of paintings of young men – well, slaves, all with collars around their necks – bound in positions not unlike Erik was catches his eyes. Some of them are hanging from the ceiling, some of them not, but in every painting the rope creates beautiful intricate patterns over their bodies. Red angry lashes crisscross some of the slave’s backs and chests.

“You like what you see?” mistress notices where Erik’s looking and he quickly drops his eyes. “It’s a series I’ve been working on, I’m gonna make an exhibition of them. I’m calling it Beauty Bound,” she grins, throwing his sketchbook aside, forgotten. She quickly makes her way to the paintings, rummaging around before pulling one out.

“You’re going to be one of my stars. The prettiest by far,” she says slyly. Immediately Erik recognizes himself in the drawing and makes a point of not looking at it. “Do you like it?”

“I—yes, mistress,” he makes himself say stiffly. He fucking hates it and wants nothing but to get out of here. The way mistress is undressing him with his eyes is making his skin crawl and he instinctively takes a step back when she comes closer.

Her face falls a little and she smirks. She goes back to the paintings, this time reaching all the way back and pulls out another one. Erik’s heart sinks when he recognizes Jerry; his hair is longer, the curls falling all the way to his shoulders and he’s even skinnier than now, but there’s no doubt it’s him.

“I made this one a long time ago. Not really fit for the series. But maybe I should do another one with him, what do you think?” she asks, faux-casually, though her eyes are hard and cold.

“No, mistress,” he whispers, not lifting his eyes.

“Well, then,” she smiles and Erik shudders. “Be nice to me and I won’t. And my brother won’t find out, will he?

All Erik manages is a shake of his head. Mistress is so close he can feel her breath on him and his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. He still makes himself stay still when she nibbles at his earlobe, her hand snaking down.

She comes to an abrupt halt when she cups his crotch and feels the chastity device. There’s a moment of stunned silence in which Erik wishes the ground would swallow him, his cheeks turning hot and red from his utter mortification, and then she throws her head back and starts to laugh.

“Oh, you’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” her shrill laughter’s assaulting Erik’s ears. “I’ve got to see that!”

Without warning, she yanks Erik’s pants down. He balls his hands in fists, dying to cover himself as she crouches down to take a closer look.

 _Tsking_ , she turns away with a chuckle. “Oh, my brother never learned how to share his toys. How rude.”

She plops down in her armchair, spreading her knees suggestively wide.

“Well, your mouth’s not locked, is it?” she snaps impatiently and Erik goes to kneel in front of her.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when the cat's away, the mice will play

Once Erik leaves the studio, he takes a moment to collect himself, knowing Jerry is probably waiting for him behind the nearest corner, with his wide worried eyes and barely suppressed questions. It’s fine, he tells himself, as he wipes his mouth for the tenth time and smooths out his hair with his sweaty palms.

It’s all fine. He’s fine. He’s not hurt. So what if mistress used him? How is it any different from master fucking his mouth on regular basis? It isn’t and Erik’s not going to make a deal out of it, especially when it’s Jerry she’ll take her anger out on if he tells on her.

Erik rolls his eyes fondly when Jerry ambushes him before he even makes it down the hall.

“I’m fine,” he assures him with a grin before Jerry can open his mouth.

“Really?” Jerry asks, dubiously. “What—what did she want?”

“I guess she wanted to have a look at the sketchbook,” he grimaces, waving the book in his hand.

Jerry still doesn’t seem that convinced but he doesn’t press. He follows Erik wordlessly around until they reach the bedroom and then hovers uncertainly.

“I’ll—uh, see you later, okay?” he says, hating the kicked puppy look on Jerry’s face as he nods and stalks away, but he’s dying to take another shower right now. And brush his teeth, at least three times.

Later at dinner, Erik’s about to sit down with his meal when Dennis stops him, jerking his head in the direction of the dining room.

“She’s asked for you,” he says apologetically and Erik wants to groan. He still does his best as he loads the tray and precariously carries it the short way to the dining room to serve mistress.

Trying to ignore the way she’s burning holes in him with her eyes, Erik serves the plates and the cutlery, keeping in mind everything she hated last time. No touching of the fork with his bare hands. The glass on the right side. The napkin must not be too close or too far from her. Don’t spill anything.

His hands are shaking slightly, unnerved by her stare, but he still manages without an accident. Once everything is laid out on the table, he takes a step back, bowing, and holds his breath while she studies her dinner in front of her.

“Did you really just serve me white wine with beef?” she asks. She doesn’t even sound mad, just amused. As if it’s all one joke to her. And it probably is – making Erik’s life as miserable as possible must be so _fucking amusing_.

Wordlessly, Erik takes the wine away and comes back a moment later with a carafe of red wine. She only sips on it, and grimaces.

“This is way overchilled.”

Erik takes a breath through his nose. He knows all too well Tracy keeps all wines at the serving temperature recommended on the label and so far, mistress has never complained. The way she smirks as he takes the wine away, yet again, tells him just how much she’s enjoying herself. He resolves not to give her the satisfaction and puts on his best blank face.

Once the wine is finally right, she complains the food has gone too cold, and then there’s a non-existent hair on her plate and when—fucking finally—she starts to eat, she has him kneel on the floor by the wall. Not on the plush carpet where master would normally have him but on the hard stone floor that is killing his knees just ten minutes in.

He feels drained by the time mistress leaves back for her room and he takes the dirty plates to the kitchen. Everyone’s gone by then and the kitchen is cleaned and spotless. There’s only a single plate, wrapped in aluminium foil sitting on the stove and once again, Erik’s grateful for the gesture.

As he’s loading mistress’ plates in the dishwasher, he hears what sounds like hushed giggles and whispering from the hallway. Curiously he peeks from the kitchen just in time to see Tracy press a bottle of wine to Jerry’s hand and then nudge him towards the door leading to the slave quarters. The next moment, the door softly closes behind them and then the hallway is once again quiet.

Erik eats his dinner alone in the kitchen in silence interrupted by nothing but the loud ticking of the old clock on the wall, unable to stop thinking about what he just saw. Did Tracy really just sneak master’s wine downstairs? Are they going to hang out and drink while master’s gone? And why didn’t they tell him?

Not really hungry anymore, Erik puts the leftovers in the fridge and walks back to his bedroom. He sits in the middle of the bed, doing his best to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth. So what they didn’t tell him to join them. He’s still new here and he’s master’s pet, no wonder they don’t see him as one _them_ , not really.

Do they think he’d snitch on them? Because he wouldn’t. Do they really think so little of him? That thought stings and he has no idea what to do with that painful feeling twisting in his stomach.

Well, screw them. He’s going to watch a movie and have a nice evening just by himself. He can enjoy himself just fine. He doesn’t need them.

He never does open the laptop. Instead, he curls on his side, staring off miserably into space. The knock on the door jolts him from his dark thoughts and he sits up, croaking: “Yeah?”

Tracy steps inside, tilting her head curiously.

“Why are hiding here alone?”

“I’m not hiding,” Erik huffs.

“You sure? We’re waiting for you downstairs.”

“Wait—you are?” Erik asks, hating how pathetically hopeful he sounds but unable to help himself. 

“Well of course we are, honey. Why wouldn’t we?” Tracy gives him such a genuinely dumbfounded look, Erik finds himself grinning. “Come on, let’s go,” she winks conspirationally and Erik’s all too happy to follows her out of the suffocating silence of the bedroom.

He already knew about the wine but he still feels his mouth fall open when he sees the spread on the tiny coffee table in the rec room. There are plates with fancy looking fingerfood, fruits, olives, cheese, even a bowl of chips, most likely home-made judging from their uneven size and shape.

Some oldies music is playing from a tiny music player on the shelf. Dennis is lounging in an armchair, feet propped up, while Jerry is pressed in the corner of the sofa, hugging his knees. He smiles at Erik as he makes his way downstairs and pats the free space next to him. Erik joins him gladly, sitting so close their shoulders touch.

“I’m impressed,” Erik comments. “So is this one of those things you _can_ get away with?” he asks, giving Dennis a meaningful look.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Dennis chuckles. “Tracy’s been putting food aside ever since we found out master will be leaving for the conference. It’s not too often we get to have indulge ourselves like that.”

“This is amazing,” Erik mumbles around a mouthful of a salmon roll. Erik can totally imagine food like this being served at one of those master’s parties.

“Did mistress give you a hard time during dinner?” Jerry asks softly and Erik winces.

“A bit, yeah,” he shrugs it off.

“I pity any slaves she will once own. She enjoys the power way too much,” Dennis sighs.

“Was—was she always like this? You’ve known her from child, right?”

“Hm,” Dennis considers for a while. “She was always a feisty and stubborn child, that’s for sure. But she changed a lot after her parents died. She was only six and I think it did a number on her. She didn’t speak a word for months after it happened. It looked like she got over it, eventually, but she became much meaner. For a long time, I hoped she’ll grow out of it, still, but… oh well.”

“At least it’s only a few more weeks till the semester starts, huh?” Tracy notes and Jerry snickers into his wine.

“Right. Can’t come soon enough.”

“Oh, so she’ll be leaving?” Erik perks up.

“Oh yeah, she’s always gone for the semester, she stays at the university.”

“Do you think she’s gonna move out for good? After she finishes the university, I mean?”

“Hard to tell,” Dennis shrugs. “They are pretty close with master, though. You kids will have to deal with it, though, I’ll be gone by then,” Dennis smirks. It takes a moment for his words to really sink in but then Erik jolts up.

“What – what do you mean?” he asks in terror. Is master going to get rid of him? It occurs to him he never gave much thought to what happens to old slaves. He never expected to live long enough to find out.

“Master’s going to free me when I turn sixty,” Dennis says seriously and Erik deflates a little.

“Oh,” he frowns. “But—where will you go?” The thought of being freed when he’s old is only slightly less terrifying than being sent to some place where old slaves go to die. The idea of being kicked out with nothing but the clothes he’s wearing, it chills him. And at sixty, how is Dennis going to find a job? And without a job, isn’t he just going to end up homeless and die on the streets?

Dennis doesn’t seem to share his concerns, only smile mysteriously and reaches to a drawer, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. It’s a listing for some property, a small house surrounding by nothing by a stretch of land.

“Master bought this for me,” he says with an unmistakable hint of pride as Erik studies the pictures, still not convinced. How will Dennis afford to take care of the place, even if master bought it for him? He still has to eat and pay bills.

“Oh, cheer up, kid,” Dennis rolls his eyes when he sees Erik’s sour expression. “You really think master would just kick me out and leave me to fend for myself? I’m still going to be working here for a time. Only as an employee—with holidays and time off and… you know, rights,” he smirks.

“And he can do that? Just—free you?” he asks, trying to keep his voice casual. He must have failed, though, judging from the sad look Dennis gives.

“You know no one wants to see a slave freed. It’s set up to be almost impossible for most slaves. And one of the conditions is being owned by the same master for at least twenty years.”

“Oh, but—” before Erik can finish his question, Dennis raises his hand to stop him and quickly pulls out his phone from his pocket.

“Turn off the music. Everyone, shut up!” he orders and Jerry almost topples over in his hurry to hit the off button on the music player.

“Good evening, master,” Dennis answers the phone and everyone goes still. Erik barely dares to breathe for fear of being too loud. “Yes, master… No, master, there wasn’t…. Uh-huh, yes, master…” Erik listens to the one-sided conversation, wishing he could make out what master’s saying, though it’s probably just checking on routine things. It’s when Dennis’ eyes lock on him that he feels his heart skip a beat.

“Erik? Yes, master, he’s already in the bedroom,” Dennis lies without missing a beat. “Yes, he did… No, master, he wasn’t…”

Erik strains his ears but all he hears from the phone is unintelligible muffled murmur. What the hell is master asking about? The questions continue for a while before Dennis finally says goodbye and ends the call.

“Well,” Dennis sighs, relieved. “I think it’s safe to assume there won’t be any more calls tonight. Let’s open the next bottle, hm?”

Erik downs the rest of wine in his glass and offers it to Tracy to be refilled, already feeling a pleasant warmth buzzing under his skin. Dennis puts the music back on and then kicks his feet back up. They chat and laugh for rest of the evening while nibbling on the delicious food until there’s nothing left. Erik feels himself lean on Jerry more and more as they work through the next bottle of wine, his head growing heavy.

“Hey, slow down,” Jerry giggles, trying to take the glass out of his hands but Erik swats him away, finishing it in one large gulp.

Soon everything starts to blur and he can’t really get his eyes to focus, but Erik doesn’t give a shit. He likes it—it’s such an exhilarating feeling, knowing that for once, he doesn’t have to watch his back among other people. He could pass out right here on the couch and no one would take advantage of him. He hasn’t felt this safe in… well, never.

Time skips on him; at one point he thinks he remembers Dennis and Tracy laughing, slow-dancing clumsily in the small space, and then they’re staggering out, supporting each other as they disappear in Dennis’ room. 

He blinks, trying to clear his head as he sees someone standing over him. It’s Jerry, laughing as he finally wrestles the glass from his fingers.

“Come on, up,” he says softly and helps Erik stand up, supporting him.

“I’m fine,” he slurs and the worlds tilts dangerously.

“Sure you are,” Jerry giggles and then starts to drag him somewhere. The whole world is spinning like crazy and he holds onto the wall for support with one hand while Jerry’s doing his best to keep him upright from the other side. He’s grateful when Jerry pushes him towards a bed and collapses on it with a grunt.

“Th—thank you, Jerry,” he mumbles into the pillow. “You’re s’ch a… a… g’d friend,” he says, surprised at how much his tongue does not cooperate.

Above him, Jerry laughs softly, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m going to fetch you a bucket.”

Erik’s out before Jerry makes it back to the room.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistress throws a party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologize for the long wait. Real life's been crazy, a lot of work, kids' been sick, and on top of that I really struggled with motivation to continue this story. I'm still here though and I hope I will continue it for some time, still!

Erik wakes up, disoriented and feeling like he’s been hit by a truck. He squints around himself, his breath hitching when he doesn’t recognize the bed or the room at first. The pounding headache isn’t helping either and it takes him probably way too long to remember where he is.

Oh right. Jerry’s room. Memories—or the lack of—of the end of the evening, of him hanging onto Jerry to keep upright as they stumbled towards the bed come rushing back and he hides his face in his hands, groaning. Fuck, this is so embarrassing.

Ignoring his nausea and his head that feels like it’s going to split in two any moment, he makes himself sit up. Only then does he notice the glass of water and a little white pill on the nightstand and he smiles fondly. He takes it, grateful, and downs it with the whole glass. It helps with the ash-tray feeling in his mouth a little.

It’s hard to tell what time it is, without any windows, but Jerry’ gone, his bed perfectly made, and so Erik ventures outside. The rec room is spotless, as if nothing out of the ordinary ever happened there, and Erik feels a sting of shame. He should have helped with the clean-up.

He listens by the door until he’s sure the corridor is clear before he quickly slips out of slaves’ quarters. The last thing he wants is mistress telling on him that he spent the night downstairs.

After a moment of aimlessly going from room to room, he finds the others in the kitchen. They are all there, working frantically. It’s such a weird sight, seeing both Dennis and Jerry helping with the meal preparations, and Erik falters, taking in the uneasy silence.

“Um, good morning,” he says tentatively, his eyes going to the clock on the wall. Fuck, it’s almost eleven. Are they mad at him for sleeping in so late? He doesn’t miss the tension in Jerry’s shoulder or the frown line between Dennis’ eyebrows.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?” Tracy asks teasingly. Dennis snorts softly and Jerry gives him an amused smile over his shoulder. It all seems in good spirits, though, and Erik relaxes a bit.

“Great, never better,” Erik grins and then frowns in confusion at all the food –plates with different snacks and finger food are everywhere – there’s barely any free space on the counters and or on the table. “What’s going on?”

“Mistress is having guests over,” Jerry answers tersely after a beat of silence.

“Oh,” Erik says, immediately remembering Jerry’s words about mistress’ ‘wild parties’.

“Yeah, of course she does,” Tracy scoffs, not slowing her furious chopping in the least. “Master doesn’t approve of her throwing parties here in the mansion. It goes without saying that we are not to tell master.”

Now it’s Erik’s turn to scoff, his heart picking up in anger. He doesn’t want to keep mistress’ secrets. He couldn’t care less if she gets in trouble with master. Only he’s not stupid enough not to know who she’s going to take her frustration out on.

“Will—will I be expected to wait on them?” Erik thinks to ask and Dennis gives him a sympathetic look that makes his heart sink.

“Most likely, yes.”

“They’re a bunch of loud, obnoxious idiots, all of them,” Jerry hisses through his teeth with a surprising hatred in his voice.

“Jerry!” Dennis reprimands him sternly, frowning disapprovingly. “Be it as it may, mistress expects nothing but perfection and we have like three hours before the guests start to arrive.”

“Tell me how to help,” Erik demands, squaring his shoulders. Everyone turns to Dennis, who hesitates, considering. Erik knows he has his orders from master not to let Erik do any manual labor around the house but surely this is an exception.

“Fine,” he sighs. “Go to the cabinet upstairs, all the way down the corridor and fetch the fancy plates.”

The rest of the day passes in a swirl of preparations. Erik barely has time to catch a few bites of lunch in between but he’s not too hungry anyway, as nervous as he is. At least the painkiller has done its job and Erik’s headache has ebbed to a bearable dull throbbing.

All too soon, the sound of tires on gravel announce the arrival of the first guests and Erik joins Jerry by his side. They’re both dressed in simple black shirt and black pants, standing unobtrusively by the wall, waiting.

“Just follow my lead,” Jerry whispers. “If you’re not sure what to do, look at me, I’ll help you.”

Erik nods, not feeling reassured in the slightest. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Fuck, he needs to stay focused. The more nervous he is, the more likely he is to fuck up and spill soup in mistress’ lap or something. He snickers to himself. The look on mistress’ face would maybe even be worth the whipping he’d be sure to receive.

Unable to help himself, Erik steals a few glances at the people pouring in. They’re all young, like mistress, laughing loudly and hugging as they come in. They’re all about Erik’s age and he can’t help but feel a twinge of bitter, dark envy, suddenly hating them and the annoying sound of their high-pitched laughter. And they don’t even realize how good they have it, do they?

The collar feels heavier than usual around his neck and he tugs at it. By his side, Jerry subtly nudges him in the ribs, giving him a pleading look, and he quickly drops his eyes again.

They settle in the garden at first. If Erik was worried mistress was going to make his life hell, as she clearly enjoys doing, he was very mistaken. She ignores him completely as he pours drinks, brings snacks and takes away the dirty dishes.

The others ignore him too, mostly. He catches a few curious or more or less subtly leering looks but other than that, he might as well be invisible.

Soon enough, Erik realizes just how mind-numbingly boring serving is. He can’t let his mind wander, either, as he needs to stay alert, watching for any empty plates or glasses to be refilled.

His feet and back are starting to ache by the time they move inside to the dining room. Once dinner starts to be served, Erik is immensely grateful for Jerry by his side who knows exactly who is to be served what first and Erik just follows his non-verbal directions as best as he can.

They manage to survive dinner without any major incidents. As the evening progresses, everyone gets louder and rowdier with every emptied bottle. Soon it’s chaos and Erik feels multiple times someone grope him as he weaves through the crowd. It’s just a light brush of hand or a squeeze of his ass and he grits his teeth and bears it.

At one time he hears loud giggling from the other side of the room and sees Jerry on his knees mopping up a spilled drink. Once he’s done and gathers all his supplies, a guy slowly tips his glass over, spilling his drink all over the floor, resulting in another bout of loud giggles from the girls standing nearby.

To his credit, Jerry doesn’t miss a beat and starts wiping again and the assholes soon grow bored of him and move away. Erik still feels his blood pound in his ears with anger but makes himself carry out.

Erik’s exhausted, mentally and physically, by the time the first guests start to leave. In the end it’s only mistress with two girls and a guy her age and one older guy dressed smartly in all black. He looks like an art critic or something, with his black turtleneck and the air of self-importance about him. Might as well be, or maybe one of mistress’ teachers.

Sometime after midnight mistress dismisses Tracy and Dennis and it’s just him and Jerry. Erik would kill to sit down for a bit but of course they’re made stand by the wall, ready to spring into action if anyone needs to top up their glass. Because clearly, it would be too much to ask for them to pour their own drinks.

At least there’s no more shouting or loud music now that’s it a smaller group. They gossip about some colleagues and get into a heated argument about some artist that Erik finds interesting at first but soon gives up on trying to follow the conversation.

The sky starts to turn grey at the horizon by the time mistress stretches and yawns. Erik allows himself a little spark of hope as they all follow her lead and start to get up. He wants nothing but to collapse in bed right now.

“I hope you don’t mind if I stay the night,” the turtleneck guy says. “I think I’ve had a bit too much to drive.”

“Of course, Michael,” mistress nods a bit too enthusiastically. “Plenty of guestrooms to choose from. For all of you.” mistress waves her hand.

“I must admit, I wouldn’t mind _him_ joining me for the night, though,” he half-jokes and Erik goes rigid. He doesn’t raise his eyes but he can feel the man leer at him.

“I don’t blame you,” mistress giggles. “Though I must say, my brother’s _very_ possessive,” she says apologetically and Erik wants to rolls his eyes. Didn’t deter _her_.

“For shame,” he drawls but doesn’t move to leave, clearly not eager to give up just yet. “What about the little one then?”

Erik’s blood turns cold. He glances towards Jerry, who’s gone very still, a look of barely-suppressed panic on his face.

There’s a moment of silence that seems to drag on forever before mistress smiles.

“Be my guest.”

Erik straightens up, looking up at mistress in alarm. He opens his mouth, ready to protest, but the words get stuck in his throat at the murderous look mistress gives him.

Frozen in spot, a dirty glass still in his hand, he helplessly watches as the man grabs Jerry by the back of his neck and together they leave the room.

“Clean up this mess!” mistress orders dismissively before she and the rest of her friends leave.

He stands there for a long time, his heart pounding and his stomach churning before he finally makes himself move. Completely on autopilot, he starts to turn the room back to its original, tidy state, getting rid of any evidence that a party happened here, while his minds is running like crazy.

He needs to wake up Dennis, this is not right! He’s almost half way to the slaves’ quarters before he stops to think. And what exactly will Dennis do about it? Go upstairs and demand Jerry be let go? Call master? At… Erik checks the clock, five in the morning?

Would master even mind? The question is like a bucket of ice-cold water poured over his head. He wants to believe he would but it’s hard to hold onto the thought. No, Jerry might not be his pet as Erik is but _surely_ he wouldn’t approve, would he?

Torn in indecision, he goes to Jerry’s room. All thought of sleep forgotten, he paces restlessly around the small room, chewing at his nails, ruining his perfect manicure. Fuck.

It’s maybe thirty minutes later that he hears the soft tell-tale padding of Jerry’s feet down the stairs. _Oh, thank fuck_.

He waits by the door but Jerry doesn’t head to the bedroom. Instead, he disappears in the shared bathroom down the hall. The sound of a shower comes next and Erik’s heart sinks a little, knowing all too well _why_ exactly that was the first thing he did.

Erik sits on the bed and waits. It doesn’t take long for Jerry to come back, changed in his favorite loose-fitting pants and long-sleeved shirt. He starts when he sees Erik and then shakes his head tiredly.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” he huffs.

“Why the hell do you think? I was worried sick!”

“I’m fine,” Jerry mutters, not looking at him. He joins him on the bed, pressing himself in the corner and hugging his knees, stubbornly avoiding Erik’s eyes.

“You’re not _fine_ ,” Erik protests, unable to keep his voice down. “None of this is fine! She can’t just… _do_ that. I’m telling master,” Erik resolves, his voice hard.

That at least gets a rection from the Jerry. He uncurls, going to his knees, grabbing Erik’s arm as if to physically stop him. He turns his wide, terrified eyes at him, shaking his head frantically.

“You can’t do that! Erik, please, you can’t! Master will be so mad!”

“Well, he should be. At her!”

“You don’t understand, she’s… she’s gonna get rid of me,” his eyes well with tears and Erik sighs, pulling him in for a hug. Jerry shuffles closer, burying his face in Erik’s shirt, letting out a wet sob.

“Master won’t let her,” Erik tries to reassure him, even though it sounds hollow even to his own ears.

“She’ll find a way. She hates me ‘cause master didn’t let her get rid of me. And—and if I get her in trouble with master, she’ll convince him and if she can’t…then she’ll just make my life hell.”

Erik pets his hair, searching for any words to convince him otherwise. He comes frustratingly blank.

Jerry pulls back, wiping his eyes. “It’s – look, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Erik scoffs and Jerry looks at him pleadingly. “I’m fine, nothing happened. It’s not like—he didn’t… fuck me, or anything,” he stutters, turning bright red.

“Really?” Erik frowns, unconvinced.

“No, he just—he couldn’t get it hard. I think he was too drunk. Had me suck him off for twenty minutes and then called me a ‘useless whore’ and kicked me out,” Jerry shrugs, going back to playing with his sleeves.

“Asshole,” Erik grunts, still so angry he could scream. He does not want mistress to get away with it, but rationally, he can’t see that much good getting out of telling master, either.

“And it’s not like it’s going to happen again,” Jerry quickly continues, seeing his hesitation. “Master’s barely ever away.”

Erik’s stomach twists painfully and he groans. “I’m so sorry,” he says softly. Fuck. It is his fault, isn’t it? It’s because of him that master had to go to that stupid conference.

“Please, just—promise you won’t tell?” Jerry pleads, turning his red-rimmed eyes at Erik and he finds himself nodding reluctantly.

“Thanks,” Jerry mutters. “Can we just sleep? I’m tired.”

Erik’s about to get up and slip to his own bed on the other side of the room but Jerry wraps his slender fingers arounds his wrist to stop him.

“I-I mean, you don’t… it’s fine, if you—”

Erik cuts his stuttering short by slipping under the cover and opening his arms invitingly. Jerry curls against his chest and he throws the blanket over both of them. It’s a tight fit in the small bed but Jerry feels perfect in his arms and Erik falls asleep almost immediately, the exhaustion winning over the turmoil in his head.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's back.

Gabriel sees Dennis as soon as he walks through the door into the arrival hall. He’s standing by the railing, his eyes scanning the crowds of people pouring in. As soon as he notices Gabriel, his face smooths out and he gives a little relieved smile.

“Welcome home, master,” he says once Gabriel finally makes his way through the people to where he’s standing. He reaches for his bag and Gabriel gladly hands it over.

“Hello, Dennis,” he pats his shoulder. He follows Dennis out of the door into the parking lot, glad to leave the airport with its stained carpets and never-ceasing calls for boarding that make his head hurt behind.

“How was the conference, master?” Dennis asks once they’re both in the car. Of course, it’s one of the smaller cars the slaves have at their disposal; it’s not like he’d allow anyone else to drive his sports car.

“Tedious,” Gabriel smiles tiredly. A lot of talks about the latest developments and newest standards that dragged on forever, interrupted only by short breaks for cheap coffee and stale cookies. Gabriel knew why he never attended these anymore now that he could easily send people in his stead. The only highlight was usually the social event that normally started as an innocent hike or a sightseeing tour and later evolved into a party with a shitload of alcohol and a pretty slave or two.

Not that long ago, Gabriel would surely indulge himself. This time. though, he found no appeal in the boys with their fake seductive smiles. Not when he had some much better at home.

“Anything interesting happened while I was gone?”

“No, not really,” Dennis keeps his eyes on the road and Gabriel studies him sideways. He’s a good liar but Gabriel can still tell from the slight tension in his shoulders and the way they he tries a bit too hard to sound nonchalant. In the end, though, Gabriel decides not to dig into that. He can imagine the slaves took advantage of his absence to maybe relax a bit, have some time off. And he doesn’t blame them. He doesn’t need to know about that. Afterall, he’s known Dennis long enough to trust him to tell him about the things he _does_ need to know about.

“What about Erik?” he asks and this earns him a glance from Dennis. “How is he… settling in?” They haven’t really talked since the last time Dennis brought it up. Gabriel promised to go easier on the boy and he might have gone a little overboard since then, but to him, Erik seemed to be doing fine. It seems the little changes he made in Jerry’s schedule and allowing him outside the house did him good.

Gabriel would hate for the boy to be unhappy in his care. After all, it’s not uncommon for slaves to succumb to depression, especially for those like Erik who were born free. Gabriel doesn’t doubt the transition must be hard but, in the end, Gabriel believes freedom is overrated. Slavery has gone a long way in helping the poorest of the poor. Without it, most of them would live in atrocious conditions, perhaps die of a drug overdose in a few years or turn to crime. Like this, they became contributing members of the society living comfortable lives where all their needs are met.

Well, in theory, anyway. Gabriel knows the institution of slavery is abused way too often, as much as authorities try to prevent it. Slave protection laws are too weak, inefficient and vague. Like, what exactly is an ‘excessive use of force’ during a punishment?

After he got Jerry, he filed a complaint against his previous master when he saw the array of scars all over his body. Most prominently, his back must have been whipped to shreds. He won the case, too, and yet it brought him little satisfaction. All that came out of it was a ridiculously low fine for the bastard and a ban on owning slaves for six months.

“He’s doing alright, I think,” Dennis says, bringing him back from his thoughts. “He’s resilient. He knows he got lucky and he does want to like here but…” he trails off, glancing at Gabriel, shrugging. Gabriel scoffs, hearing the unsaid ‘ _but you’re not making it easy for him_ ’ loud and clear. Well, tough luck. The boy needs to get it through his head that his body is a small price to pay for the comfortable life Gabriel has given him.

“I’m not unreasonable. I’m actually quite fond of him. The last thing I want is to hurt him.”

“I know,” Dennis smiles placatingly, though the worry line on his forehead does not quite go away.

Everyone’s waiting for him in the foyer, lined up by the wall, when he finally makes it home a few hours later.

“Welcome home, master,” Tracy welcomes him, cheerful as always and Gabriel smiles back. Jerry’s standing next to her, his head down, curls falling into his eyes. He should get him a haircut again, he reminds himself and then frowns. The boy’s huddled in a ridiculously oversized hoodie that swallows him whole and makes him seem even smaller somehow. Gabriel’s gotten used to Jerry wearing long sleeves even on the hottest days of the summer but this this seems like too much even for him. Something feels off about him today but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Master?” Erik says softly and all thought of Jerry leaves Gabriel’s mind. The boy’s long hair, still slightly damp from the shower, is falling down past his shoulders and a small smile is playing on his lips. Gabriel can’t resist and pulls him in for a kiss.

“Bedroom. Now,” he growls impatiently in his ear and Erik smirks as he slowly stalks off, his hips swaying a bit more than strictly necessary. Oh, that tease, Gabriel thinks fondly.

“Alright,” Gabriel clasps his hand, distracted. “The rest of you—any questions? No? Go,” he waves his hand dismissively as he heads upstairs himself.

He catches up with Erik by the bedroom door and he all but slams him against the nearest wall as soon as they’re inside, capturing his mouth in a rough, claiming kiss.

“I missed you,” he breathes out against his lips. He then takes his chin, tilting his face to take a closer look at him.

“You look tired,” he notes, the dark circles under Erik’s eyes impossible to miss from this close. “You didn’t stay up late, did you?” he asks, unimpressed.

“No, I—” he boy hesitates, his eyes flicking to Gabriel’s, but unable to hold his gaze. “I just, couldn’t really sleep without you here.”

“Hm,” Gabriel hums, amused, not overly inclined to believe him.

“Master?” he asks when Gabriel doesn’t resume the kiss and he tilts his hips, rubbing tentatively against Gabriel’s thigh. Under the soft fabric of Erik’s pants, Gabriel can feel the unyielding cock cage and he feels his own dick twitch in arousal.

He spins him around roughly and Erik lets out a startled yelp. He bends him over the nearest set of drawers, knocking off a few things in the process. Impatiently he tugs the boy’s pants off and then kicks his feet apart, while pressing his face against the furniture.

“Stay,” he barks and quickly grabs a bottle of lube from the nightstand. As much as he can’t wait to bury himself inside him, he’s not going risk injuring him. He meant it what he said in the car.

Sloppily he squirts the lube on his hand and none-too-gently thrusts two fingers in his hole, eliciting a helpless whine from Erik. The boy grips the edges of the cabinet for purchase and clenches his eyes shut, his breath coming in in rapid gasps.

He doesn’t waste too much time on preparing the boy, his impatience taking the better of him. After a few hasty pumps, he removes his fingers and buries himself all the way to his balls in one strong thrust. Gripping the boy’s bony hips, he starts to fuck him with such a force the whole set of drawers bangs loudly against the wall.

The desperate little sounds Erik makes only serve to drive Gabriel to fuck him faster and harder. He loves the idea that Erik’s locked and unable to get hard; his sole purpose right now is being a hole for Gabriel to use and take pleasure from, and he’s enjoying it more than he probably should.

It doesn’t take long for Gabriel to spend himself inside Erik with a grunt. It feels amazing and he’s ready to collapse into bed afterwards, sated and exhausted. As pulls out and tucks himself back in, though, he can’t help but feel a stab of pity when he takes Erik in – panting, his eyes wide and glistening with tears as he still keeps white-knuckled hold on the edges of the cabinet.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he says softly and gently pries his hands of the piece of furniture. He leads him to the bathroom and the boy winces as he Gabriel’s cum trickles down his thigh.

“Let’s take this off, hm?” Gabriel murmurs as he fishes out the key from his pocket. Erik heaves a sigh of relief once the cage is off, muttering a quiet _thank you_. He’s still shaky and unsteady on his feet as Gabriel steers him to the shower and joins him, setting the water on pleasantly hot.

Lathering a washcloth with soap, he runs it between the boy’s cheeks and on his thighs. He all but brushes Erik’s dick and they boy moans brokenly, growing hard immediately. Gabriel’s taken back to the memory of Erik’s first day here, to their first shower. It’s not that long ago and yet, Gabriel can’t imagine his home without Erik in it anymore.

Hugging him from behind, one hand wrapped around his chest to keep him steady, he reaches down with his other hand to jerk him off. Erik comes soon, arching his back and moaning and Gabriel jerks him until he starts to squirm uncomfortably in his grasp. He makes himself let go, as much as he would to love to play with him so more. Make him come so many time until there’s nothing left in him to shoot and he begs for him to stop. Some other time, Gabriel promises himself.

Afterwards, they hastily finish washing and head straight to bed. Erik wraps himself around Gabriel’s chest and Gabriel gently runs his nails up and down the boy’s scalp and his back, making him shiver with pleasure.

“It really _is_ good to be back home,” he chuckles and Erik hums tiredly.

“Please don’t ever leave again, master,” he says quietly and presses even closer. Gabriel frowns, surprised.

“Surely it wasn’t that bad, was it? And it was just two days.”

Erik doesn’t answer but he doesn’t light up, either, now looking even more tired and miserable than before.

“I could take you with me next time,” Gabriel offers. “Would you like that?”

“I—I don’t know,” Erik looks up, hesitant. “I’m kinda—terrified of flying.”

Gabriel chuckles, ruffling his hair. “There’s nothing to be scared of, I think you would love it.”

Erik grimaces but doesn’t argue.

“I don’t travel all that much if I can avoid it, anyway. Oh, I forgot – I brought you something. It’s in the bag, why don’t you go grab it.”

Obediently, Erik gets out of bed and open the bag discarded by the door.

“Really, master?” he mutters under his breath as he takes out the crumpled clothes Gabriel carelessly crammed in.

“What? They need to be washed anyway,” Gabriel defends himself and Erik shakes his head, disapproval still plain on his face. Finally, he finds the paper bag at the bottom and opens it gingerly. Gabriel watches him eagerly as he unwraps the little statue of a windmill he got from a local souvenir shop. It is painted in bright colors—hand-made, he was assured—and it’s definitely too kitsch for Gabriel’s taste, though he thought it would fit well with Erik’s little collection of knick-knacks.

Erik turns it oh-so-carefully in his hands, rewarding Gabriel with the first genuine smile since Gabriel got home.

“I love it,” Erik grins and quickly pads across the room, placing it on his shelf next to his other possessions. “Thank you, master.”

“There’s more,” Gabriel points to the bag. Erik eagerly searches through the dirty clothes again until he finds another small package. His eyes are wide and he’s grinning wildly as he pulls out the leather bracelet with the word _Erik_ spelled on it with little beads. Excitedly, he hops back on the bed, sitting cross-legged between Gabriel’s thighs and offers his hand for Gabriel to tie the bracelet on.

“Thank you, master” he says again, admiringly inspecting his hand and Gabriel chuckles, enjoying seeing Erik this excited over a few trinkets. He pulls him to lay back down, throwing a blanket over them.

The boy looks like he could use a nap or two and sure enough, he’s asleep almost immediately. Gabriel watches him fondly for a while—his mouth parted slightly and his face relaxed and peaceful in his sleep—and then puts on clean clothes and closes the bedroom door behind him quietly so as not to disturb him.

He heads to Hanna’s room, and knocks on the door. It takes three knocks before he finally hears a croaked ‘come in’. She’s sitting in her bed, her hair matted and sticking in every direction and she smiles at him, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Gabe! You’re back.”

“Have you been seriously still sleeping?” Gabriel laughs and she scoots, making room for him in the bed. He leans against the headboard and she plops back down on the pillow, smiling sheepishly, as she stretches.

“Yeah?”

“And you wouldn’t happen to know anything about why all the slaves are looking tired as hell, hm?”

She chuckles. “Alright. I might have had some friends over last night.”

“Hanna!”

“What? It was just a couple of people. Nothing wild, I promise. Erik and Jerry stayed up late to clean up, that’s all.”

She moves closer and Gabriel lifts his arm so that she can lean against him. It’s nice, having her this close. After their parents died, they shared bed for years and if he’s being honest, he always missed her once she moved to her own bedroom. It’s hard not to see her as his baby sister, still. He’ll probably always see her that way, no matter how old she gets.

“Tell me about your trip,” she says as she makes herself comfortable.

“I’m afraid it’s rather boring,” Gabriel smiles.

“Still. You’re always so busy, barely ever home. And when you are, you’re with _him_. It’s been too long since we had a chance to talk,” she complains, her eyes flashing angry for a moment, and Gabriel feels a pang of shame, knowing she’s right.

“I will tell you if you tell me about what you’ve been up to then.”

“Deal,” she smiles and Gabriel starts to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on discord if anyone wants to chat! https://discord.gg/zTf4Yjw


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik meets Zach again.

The next day, Erik’s still sore after the welcome-home fucking he got from master and that’s just another reason on the list of why he never wants master to go to another stupid conference. Yesterday, when he bent him over the cabinet, Erik couldn’t fight the terror that washed over him. It was like he was back in the sweatshop, pinned against the ground while they fucked him dry until he bled.

Only of course master wouldn’t do that. He was rough but never cruel. Erik knew that though at that moment, his rational thought was left somewhere behind, buried by his fear.

He quickly forgets his discomfort when he sees Jerry working outside in the hoodie while sweat trickles down his temples. Erik knows it’s the only piece of clothing Jerry has that hides the bruises that asshole left on him.

He saw the bruises in the morning after as Jerry was hastily changing his clothes and hissed in sympathy.

“It’s nothing,” Jerry muttered and jerked away when Erik tried to take a closer look. “It’s just my stupid pale skin, I always bruised super easily.”

And while master dives back to work and luckily seems pretty distracted, Dennis isn’t that easy to fool. He finds them in the garden, crossing his arms as he gives Jerry a scrutinizing look.

“What’s up with that?” Dennis asks, tugging at the sleeve of the hoodie.

“I—nothing, it’s just. Bit chilly here.”

“Chilly?” Dennis frowns. While the mornings have been getting a bit colder lately, the sun is still pleasantly warm even this early in the day. “Are you coming down with something?” Dennis asks, pressing his head to Jerry’s sweaty forehead.

“I, uh, I’m feeling a bit off, yeah,” he mutters and Dennis sighs.

“Go back to bed.”

“But—what about--?” Jerry gestures to the flower bed he was just weeding.

“I’ll do it later. Now go!” Dennis orders gently but sternly and it’s clear even to Jerry there is no arguing with him. He hangs his head and reluctantly drags his feet back inside the house, leaving Dennis and Erik alone.

“Don’t even think about it,” Dennis warns him, pointing to the unfinished flower bed before he leaves and Erik has to laugh.

“I won’t,” he promises with a grin. As satisfying as it would be, he’s not going to test master by getting dirt under his nails. Leaning against a tree, he closes his eyes instead, enjoying the peacefulness of the morning.

Of course it doesn’t last. Not ten minutes later, the garden door opens and master peeks out.

“Erik! Come here.”

He quickly dusts his pants off and hurries inside. Master said he’s going to work from home today but maybe there was a change of plans.

“Master?”

“Get ready, we’re visiting my friend Tony. You remember Zach, right?” he asks with a teasing smile.

Erik’s heart drops deep down into his stomach and he falters. “Like—now?”

“Yes, now. Or did you have any other exciting plans?” master asks and there’s a thread of warning in his amused tone.

“But, master—I’m not ready,” Erik breathes out unhappily, his heart beating furiously in his throat.

“You have—" master checks his phone, “—52 minutes to get ready. How much more time do you need to take a shower and get dressed?” master asks, exasperated.

Erik doesn’t answer, biting his lip to stay quiet. He wishes master wouldn’t lay surprises on him like this. What he wants is like two days to mentally prepare himself for whatever is about to happen but of course, he doesn’t _need_ that, does he?

“I don’t wanna go,” he blurts out before he can stop himself and then cringes, expecting master to get annoyed. Instead, master hums, watching him thoughtfully and then pulls him in for a hug.

“You’ll be alright, pet,” he says soothingly.

“Will I be expected to… _do stuff_ with Zach again?” he asks quickly, taking advantage of master’s good mood.

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” master shrugs as if it’s of no consequence to him and Erik wants to groan in frustration. “What I can promise you, though, is that I won’t get drunk this time,” master smiles, almost sheepishly, and Erik nods. That’s as good a reassurance as he’s going to get.

“Fine,” he sighs and is about head upstairs to take a shower, already wondering what he should do with his hair.

“Oh, and Erik—” master stops him and pulls out something from his pocket. “Put these on.”

With a smug smile, he holds out what Erik recognizes is the black laced panties.

“Master,” Erik whines unhappily, taking a step back. “No. Just—no. Please?”

Oh fucking hell, he does not want to wear the stupid panties. It’s bad enough in the privacy of his home but in front of another owner and Zach? His palms start to sweat just thinking about it.

“Do I need to bring the red thong?” master asks calmly, though the threat is loud and clear, and Erik angrily snags the panties from his hand.

“I hate when you do that, master,” he grits through his teeth and master chuckles.

“Then maybe you should learn to stop fighting me, hm?” master pats his cheek and Erik glares back. “Oh, don’t give me that look, you’ll look lovely. Go on, then, fifty minutes! I’ll meet you by the car.”

As he steps into the shower, he tries, and fails, not to let his wander. Fuck, if they at least came here – he knows the safety he came to associate with master’s home is only an illusion, but still. Going to an unfamiliar place – that adds a whole new level of stress that Erik is not ready to deal with.

It takes about five minutes of standing naked in the middle of the bathroom for Erik to talk himself into putting the panties on. It’s not that bad, he tells himself as he studies himself in the mirror. Definitely not as bad as the red atrocity. The black lace is rather subtle and at least not see-through.

Afterward, he drags a chair to the window and gets his makeup set that he hasn’t opened yet. His hand is surprisingly steady as he puts on the eyeliner and he finds it weirdly calming. It’s almost like drawing, only on himself. And putting on a layer of makeup to hide behind feels comforting, too.

He doesn’t go for subtle this time, experimenting with different color eyeshadows and not holding back. It takes him so long he barely has time to brush his hair and has to run downstairs not to be late.

Master’s look of pleased surprise when he sees him makes him blush like a stupid teenager.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” master murmurs and a smile tugs at Erik’s lips, despite his nerves.

Erik’s surprised when not an hour later they pull into a parking lot of a high-rise apartment building downtown. He’s not sure why he expected a house somewhere in the suburbs; it does make sense they live in an apartment, considering it’s just Zach and his master.

The elevator opens with a soft ding when they reach the top floor, opening to a sunny corridor with pleasantly beige carpet that absolutely does not reflect the feeling of doom Erik gets as he steps out. Already master’s friend is waiting by the open the door of the only apartment on the floor. Erik glances up briefly to see Zach standing behind his master, wearing nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants. No wonder his master has him walk around half-naked, Erik scoffs to himself, unable to not gawk at the perfectly sculptured body. Zach’s face is hard and unreadable, though Erik doesn’t find him nearly as terrifying as he did the first time he saw him.

“Why don’t you boys go entertain yourselves for a bit while we talk some work,” master dismisses them and together with Zach’s master they disappear into what Erik can only assume is the study.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Zach’s whole posture changes. He drops his hands crossed behind his back and lets his shoulders sag as he gives a nervous smile.

“Hey, so—look, I’m sorry about—” he starts and Erik quickly shakes his head.

“No, don’t be. Just—don’t. It’s fine, really.”

“Thanks,” Zach breathes out, relieved.

“I wasn’t punished, or anything,” Erik adds awkwardly.

“Good, that’s good. I sort of hoped he wouldn’t. So – do you wanna see my room?” Zach grins, throwing an arm over his shoulders and Erik’s follows, grateful to get the awkwardness out of the way and all but happy to pretend last time didn’t happen.

He leads him down the corridor into… a gym, it looks like. The room’s rather small and packed with different equipment, including a sturdy treadmill right in front of the window.

“That’s quite a view,” Erik gives a low whistle.

“Isn’t it?” Zach preens. “Makes running for hours at one spot like a hamster slightly more bearable,” he laughs, patting the machine.

Other than the treadmill taking up most of the floor, there are racks with weights and other things Erik can only vaguely imagine what they’re for, as well as bars and handles drilled into the walls, for pull-ups, most likely. As crammed as the room is, it feels very bare and impersonal. The grey heavy-duty carpet and blank white walls aren’t helping.

In the far-away corner there’s a thin mat and one of those hanging clothes storage bags. Zach sits down on the mat and pats the spot next to him invitingly.

“Sorry, I don’t have any chairs,” he smiles apologetically.

“Wait,” Erik frowns as he joins him. The leather of the mat feels cold under his bare feet. “ _This_ is your room? You sleep here?”

“Yeah,” Zach looks around self-consciously and now Erik feels like a jerk for even asking. “I know. I mean—normally I have a blanket, too, but… I fucked up yesterday so master took it away,” he shrugs easily. “I bet your room is awesome, though, right?” he asked eagerly and Erik scoffs.

“I actually don’t have one. I sleep in master’s bedroom.”

“Oh, that must be nice,” Zach says wistfully. 

Unsure what to say, Erik looks around himself again. “Do you enjoy it? Working out?” he asks to break the silence.

“Sure,” Zach smiles. “Better than sitting around all day doing nothing. Master gives me an exact schedule for each day, number of repetitions and stuff.” He leans closer, almost touching Erik’s ear with his lips. “There are cameras fucking everywhere,” he winks at him and the hair on the back of Erik’s neck stands up, suddenly feeling like he’s being watched. Are they watching them right now from the other room? Probably not, right?

They fall quiet, Erik suddenly nervous to say the wrong thing. But as the time drags on, Erik’s mind inevitably wanders back to what masters have in store for them today. Unable to take the uncertainty, he asks quietly, the words barely a whisper.

“Do you know what’s gonna happen today?”

“I have an inkling,” Zach smirks. There’s nothing of his usual cheerfulness in those words and Erik feels a stab of panic.

“What? What is it?”

“Oh, don’t worry that pretty head of yours,” Zach grins cheekily. “You’ll be fine.”

Erik doesn’t even have the time to get annoyed before they hear Zach’s master call them. Following on Zach’s heels, they walk a short distance to another room. Immediately, Zach slips out of his pants, folding them and then easily kneels by the wall, while Erik is frozen on the spot, his heart thundering with unadulterated terror.

They have been taken to what Erik can only describe as a torture room. The dark-painted walls are lined with whips and paddles and canes of different types and sizes. A large wooden X dominates the room while smaller leather benches with numerous restraints all over them are put away neatly by the wall.

All air leaves his lungs. He feels like he’s suffocating and he takes a step back, overcome with the need to get out of here _right now_.

“Erik,” Master takes a gentle hold of the back of his neck to stop him and he flinches.

“Oh, he’s even greener than I thought, isn’t he?” Zach’s master chuckles and he sounds weirdly far away.

“Erik,” master says again, ignoring him. “Take a breath.”

He forces in a shaky lungful and then another until his vision clears and his ears stop ringing. He locks his eyes on master’s face, the familiarity grounding him.

“Good, that’s it,” master murmurs reassuringly, running his thumb over the base of his neck. “Now strip.”

In jerky movements, Erik gets rid of his shirt and pants. It’s only when he reaches for the panties that masters stop him.

“No. Keep those on.”

Erik lets his hands fall. Master pulls out a thin leather leash and clips it to Erik’s collar. Somehow, Erik can’t find it in himself to be too bothered by it. He’ll wear a fucking leash if it means he gets to stay by master’s side and not go anywhere near those chains hanging menacingly from the ceiling.

Master settles down on the leather sofa in the corner and Erik kneels on his heels at his side, pressing closer to master’s leg.

“Drink?” Zach’s master asks.

“Sure.”

Erik swallows the stab of betrayal as he hears the sloshing of a drink being poured and a waft of whiskey invades his nose. He fucking _promised_. 

“I like what you did with the place.”

“Not bad, huh? So much better than having to go all these loud, obnoxious clubs anytime you want to have some fun, am I right?”

“Hm,” master hums.

“Of course you are welcome to use it with your boy anytime you want.”

Erik’s mouth runs dry and he takes a hold of master’s ankle, sending him a quiet plea. Master’s hand finds his hair, petting him affectionately.

“Thank you,” he smiles politely. It’s not the refusal Erik was hoping for but it’s not an agreement either.

“Right, well. I promised you a little demonstration, didn’t I?”

Erik glances towards Zach, kneeling silently by the wall. He’s doing the unreadable thing again and damn, is he good. He gets up in one fluid motion when his master beckons to him and calmly walks to the center of the room.

His master snaps metal manacles hanging from a chain from the ceiling around his wrists and then turns a lever to raise it up. He doesn’t string him all the way up, though. His feet are still comfortably on the ground, even with the wide stance he has and his bound hands are barely above his head. Zach plants his feet steadily and grips the length of the chain with his hands for support.

“I’ll be doing a little endurance and obedience training,” Zach’s master gets a whip from a hook on the wall and brings it closer, showing it off. “My newest purchase – a single tail braided leather. This one is no joke. He’s still getting used to it but we’ve been making progress, so let’s see. Forty lashes, five as punishment any time he breaks his position.”

Erik doesn’t _want_ to watch but he’s unable to tear his eyes away, flinching at the loud crack the whip makes as lands on Zach’s back. He only breathes in sharply, gritting his teeth, but doesn’t move an inch.

Immediately an angry red welt appears on his skin and his master comes closer, inspecting it.

“I don’t want to break the skin, if I can avoid it,” he explains, as he probes at the welt. “We don’t want any scarring, do we?”

Afterwards, there is no holding back. The lashes keep falling, turning his back into a criss-cross of welts. Soon, Zach’s panting, his skin glistening with sweat and his every muscle trembling and yet he doesn’t move, holding desperately onto the chain.

When Erik glances up, he sees master watching the show still as a statue and his eyes dark. Oh god, he _does_ like it, doesn’t he? Is he imagining Erik in Zach’s stead?

About hallway through, the whip twists around Zach’s torso and he lets out a yell, taking a fumbling step forward in a desperate attempt to get away. His master clicks his tongue disapprovingly, letting his hand holding the whip fall.

“Get back,” he growls and Zach obeys, though it’s obvious it takes a lot of willpower to do so. Master switches the whip for a cane and lands five quick ruthless stripes on Zach’s buttocks and thighs.

“Concentrate,” he admonishes him before resuming the whipping. Towards the end, Zach’s composure slowly slips away. He breaks position two more times, whimpering every time master reaches for the cane, and every time it takes him a bit longer to make himself return to the default position.

Erik lets out a breath of relief when they finally reach forty. He’s been clenching his teeth so hard the entire time his whole jaw is aching now.

“As you can see, there’s still a lot of room for improvement,” Zach’s master says as he joins master on the sofa, breathing hard from the exertion. He downs his drink, pouring himself another. Master covers his glass, shaking his head, when he tries to top his glass as well.

Zach collapses onto his knees on the floor next to his master’s legs, shivering and panting, glaring at the ground, ignoring Erik who’s uselessly trying to catch his eyes.

“He’s a tough one, I know he can take it. He just has to apply himself, don’t you?” Zach’s master says dispassionately, nudging the hunched boy with the top of his shoe.

“You know,” master says thoughtfully. “He’d try much harder for you if you showed him a little affection.” He reaches down and takes hold of Zach’s chin, lifting his face. He runs his thumb soothingly across Zach’s cheek, the gesture so intimate and familiar Erik’s stomach does a weird flip.

“ _I_ thought you did amazing,” he murmurs, holding Zach’s gaze. “I’m really impressed.”

Zach blinks in surprise, his unreadable mask crumbling away as a look of utter astonishment and longing crosses his face.

“See?” master smiles smugly, as he leans back, letting go of Zach.

“Affection,” Zach’s master scoffs. “He’s not a coddled _pet_ , you know?” he sneers and Erik feels his cheeks heat up. “He’s an investment. Once he’s trained enough I’m going to sell him. He should catch a handsome sum, don’t you think? Young, pretty, trained…”

In an impressive short time, Zach gets his breath under control and then kneels motionlessly while masters finish their drinks, talking.

They don’t stay much longer afterwards. The entire ride home takes place in an oppressive silence. Erik can feel master glancing at him but he keeps his eyes carefully out of the window. There’s an uneasy feeling in his stomach that refuses to go away. As glad as he is to be out of there, he can’t get Zach out of his mind, can’t stop thinking about him lying on his stomach on the cold uncomfortable mat without as much as a fucking blanket.

It’s not fair. He has half a mind to beg master to buy Zach out of that place if he didn’t know just how ridiculous that was. Why the hell did he even take him there? He’s done nothing but kneel by his feet and looked pretty the entire time. Was it to show him what he is to expect? Does master want to string him up and whip him, too?

Dread turns his stomach icy cold at the idea. Somehow he always thought that if he behaved, if he managed to stay on master’s good side, he wouldn’t have to worry about that. It felt reassuring, like he had a semblance of a choice. But if he is to get flogged just for master’s enjoyment, then there is jackshit he can do about that.

“May I be excused?” he asks as soon as they get back to the mansion. All he wants right now is to be alone. Or, even better, in Jerry’s bed, watching a movie while they commiserate their mutual fates.

“No,” master says simply and Erik sighs. Then again, he saw the bulge in master’s pants back there. He knows what is about to happen. He only hopes it’ll be his mouth, as his ass is still pretty sore.

Instead of the bedroom, master leads him to the living room, where he makes himself comfortable on the large sofa. He tugs Erik closer and automatically, he’s about to go his knees between master’s legs.

“No,” master smiles. “Come lay down, like this.” He navigates him to lay with his head in master’s lap and then throws a blanket over him. After a minute of scrolling through the TV’s menu, he starts an ocean life documentary.

“You liked these, didn’t you?” he says, scratching his scalp gently. It feels infuriatingly good but Erik stays rigid, refusing to give in.

“You worry too much,” master says softly.

“I think I worry a reasonable amount, master,” Erik counters stiffly and master chuckles.

“You’ll be alright, sweetheart.”

Master pulls out his phone and starts scrolling mindlessly, while Erik waits, rigid, for anything to happen. It doesn’t and eventually, he allows himself to relax and actually loses himself in the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I don't know when the next chapter will be, as I'll be pretty busy for the rest of the week but at least this chapter was long, right??


	28. Chapter 28

Two more days later, Jerry returns to his usual duties. Erik helps him cover the fading bruises with his makeup so that he can shed the ridiculous hoodie and everything goes back to normal.

Master’s been so distracted with work the past few days anyway and he barely noticed Jerry’s been holed up in his room for days. Erik heard Dennis mention to him that Jerry’s not feeling well and is taking a few days off. Master only instructed him impatiently to let him know if he gets worse and needs to see a doctor and that was it.

It stung a little, knowing that if it were Erik, there’d be a doctor in under twenty minutes and he’d be fussed over and coddled like a baby. Not that Erik think Jerry would appreciate that much of master’s attention, but still.

Over the next week, master’s busier and grumpier than usual. From what Erik’s overhears during the time master keeps him in his office, there are problems with the new secretary. Clearly, she isn’t the most capable person but Erik still feels sorry for her when he hears master yell at her over the phone.

“What do you mean the contract’s not ready?” he bellows and Erik flinches where he is kneeling under the table, cringing in sympathy for the person on the receiving end of master’s anger. “Do your fucking job!”

With master fuming and frustrated, Erik stays very still, barely daring to breathe, hunching on himself to make himself a smaller target. When master looks down on him, though, his face softens, some of the anger draining away.

“Come here,” he murmurs, more tired than angry, and Erik hurries to shuffle closer despite his heart still hammering in fear.

Kneeling in the V of master’s legs, he stays still as master gently pets his hair. After a while, he slowly relaxes and hides his face in master’s stomach, wrapping his arms around his waist.

Master hums, playing with a strand of Erik’s hair. “This is nice. My beautiful pet.”

Erik enjoys the ministrations and the warmth of master’s solid form underneath him. The silent affectionate moment doesn’t last long and soon, master gently pushes him away, looking down at him through lidded eyes.

“Go on, now,” he growls impatiently as he undoes his pants. “You know what to do.”

Erik indeed does know and suppresses a sigh as he takes master in his mouth.

-°-

Erik’s watching master’s button up his shirt from the bed, cosy and comfortable under the blankets. It’s so fucking early, still. He has no idea how master makes himself get up at the crack of dawn every day but he’s just grateful he doesn’t insist on Erik waking up with him.

“Do you have to go, master?” Erik pouts. He knows complaining like this is walking on thin ice but he can’t help himself. It’s not the same when he doesn’t have master’s warm body to cuddle against.

“Do you think I want to go?” master scoffs, sliding in the belt into the loops of his pants. “I’d much rather stay in bed with you than spend hours fixing that women’s mistakes. I shouldn’t have to spend my time with this crap. Such tedious work. Hm,” master suddenly stops his rant, turning to Erik with a gleam in his eyes that makes his heart flutter nervously. “Come to think of it, maybe I could take home office, make my work a bit more pleasant. Get in the center of the bed. On your stomach.”

Erik wants to groan and hide under the blankets. Next time he’s going to pretend to be asleep.

With a sigh he crawls from underneath the blanket, immediately missing its warmth. He lies in the middle of the bed, anxiously watching master who’s rolled up his sleeves and is currently looking through his box of surprises.

“A bit of morning exercise,” he grins and then chuckles when Erik shoots him a glare. He wrenches both of Erik’s arms back, binding them together with a rope and then ties them to his feet in a hogtie. It forces his shoulders back uncomfortably, his back arching, and immediately Erik knows he’s going to hate it in just a few minutes.

“Just a finishing touch,” master murmurs gleefully and then reaches behind him. In his hand he holds a metal hook with a rather large ball at its end. For a moment, Erik doesn’t understand what it’s for, but when master starts to thoroughly lube the round end of the hook, his stomach sinks in realization. Right. Of course that’s where it goes.

Parting his cheeks with his fingers, master dribs more lube on his hole and the next moment he feels the hard cold metal press against his entrance. He takes in a shaky breath, struggling to make himself relax, as master gently but insistently pushes it in.

It’s no easy task but finally the bulbous part passes the tight ring of his muscles and slips inside him. It sits snugly in his ass, pressing against his sweet spot and Erik focuses on his breathing.

He flinches when master gently combs his hair back with his fingers and ties it into a pony tail.

“Come on, head up,” master instructs softly and Erik arches even more, despite his protesting muscles. Only then does master tie Erik’s ponytail to the end of the hook with a rope.

“Beautiful,” master gets up, satisfied, as he looks him over. Immediately Erik’s muscles start to ache from holding the position but when relaxes, his hair tugs the hook even deeper and Erik moans at the gut-wrenching sensation.

As focused on holding the position as he is, he barely notices master prop his phone on the cabinet opposite the bed and start the camera. He keeps fiddling with it for a while until Erik’s clearly in the frame and then rubs his hands.

“Alright, you’re all set. I’ll be going then.”

“Wait, no, master, please,” Erik gasps, suddenly terrified of being left alone like this.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be keeping an eye on you from the office. That should make the work a bit more pleasant, hm? I’ll come get you when I’m done so try not to distract me too much,” he winks and then he’s gone.

Erik swallows, his quick breath suddenly very loud in the quiet bedroom. In front of him, he catches a glimpse of himself on master’s phone and quickly averts his eyes, his face turning hot. He finds a little crack on the opposite wall and desperately tries to stay focused on it.

It doesn’t long for his muscles to tire. Keeping his back arched like this fucking sucks and soon he finds himself sagging, hissing at the way it tugs at the fucking thing in his ass. He counts his breaths, alternating between resting his muscles and straining back up, but all the squirming and tugging only serves to make him hard and frustrated.

Subtly he tries to rub himself against the bed but it’s nowhere near enough to get him off and it’s way too much effort anyway, so he stop, panting and defeated.

As the time ticks by, uncertainty starts to eat him from inside. How long has it been? Ten minutes? Half an hour? He honestly can’t tell. And how much longer? It might be hours or just a couple of minutes. He feels a cold panic forming in the back of his mind and he desperately tries to keep it back.

He can’t freak out right now. It’s fine. Everything’s under control. Fuck, but why is this so much harder alone? He _knows_ master is watching him. Or is he? What if he popped out to get breakfast or something. What if he got a call and can’t pay him any attention?

Despite himself, he tries to struggle against the rope, his panic only increasing when it becomes painfully clear he’s not getting out of here. His breath starts to come in short, panicked breaths and tears spring to his eyes, unbidden.

“Master?” he sobs pleadingly.

There’s no answer of course. Master’s probably watching him on mute. If he’s even watching. No, he’s not there, Erik’s alone and scared and no one’s going to help him…

The door opens and master comes in, sitting on the bed next to Erik, placing a steading hand on his lower back.

“Calm down, it’s okay,” he says soothingly. “Take a breath.”

Erik sucks in a few shallow breaths through his constricted throat while master undoes the rope, freeing his arms and legs and hair, only leaving the hook in but Erik’s happy to ignore it as he lays splayed on the bed, panting.

“I—I’m sorry,” he mumbles, daring a peek at master through his hair. He’s frowning while still running a hand up and down his back.

“Hm,” he hums, reaching to play with the hook, making Erik moan into the bed sheets. “I guess I should have known better than to leave you alone like this.”

With master here, he soon gets his nerves under control and his arousal returns in full force. He lifts his ass a bit, arching his back and is rewarded by a resounding smack on his ass that makes him yelp.

“You are _such_ a distraction, how am I to get anything done here,” master admonishes him fondly but it works as Erik hopes. Master pulls out the hook impatiently. Erik hears a zipper being undone and the wet sound of more lube and then it’s master’s dick pressing at his entrance.

Burying his face in his forearms, Erik goes pliant, letting master manhandle him as he fucks him. He allows himself to enjoy it. It’s fine. He deserves a bit of pleasure in his life, doesn’t he? So what if he enjoys it. It’s going to happen either way, he may as well make the best of it. It’s not like can get himself off any other way.

Master’s nice to him today. Not too rough, hitting the right spot every single thrust and even reaches between his legs as he’s getting closer, jerking Erik off until he comes all over the bed.

Afterwards they both collapse on the bed, among all the discarded rope and the hook. Erik cuddles closer, careful not to crumple or dirty master’s clothes.

“Alright,” master heaves a sigh. “Now I _really_ have to go. Clean this all up, would you?”

Pressing a light kiss on Erik’s lips, he gets up, zips himself back up and leaves. Erik looks at the soiled bed and discarded hook in dismay and then slips back under the blanket, humming with pleasure as he makes himself comfortable. Cleaning up will wait.

-°-

Erik’s kneeling by master’s chair, studying the patterns on the carpet, bored out of his mind. The lunch is taking way too long today. Normally, master would at least feed him a bite or two but today, he obviously forgot about him, typing furiously on his phone.

Master’s been home no longer than a week and already Erik desperately wishes he would fire that new secretary. There’s always some problem or another and master’s mood has been growing progressively more and more sour. And it’s always Erik who then ends up being used as some kind of stress relief.

“Gabe,” mistress sighs, pushing her food around on the plate with her fork. “Don’t we have a no-phones-at-the-table-rule?”

“Hanna,” master says warningly, glaring at her from over his phone.

“Seriously. If I as much as glance at my phone during lunch, I get a full lecture.”

“Right, only I’m dealing with an actual business emergency here while you are… what, chatting on discord?”

“So what? That’s hardly fair.”

“Enough!” master snaps, banging his hand on the table, and Erik flinches.

“Wow. You’re in _a mood._ Fine!” she huffs. They both eat in an angry silence for a while before mistress pushes her half-finished meal away. Immediately, Jerry quietly swoops in to take the plate away.

“Oh, this reminds me,” she says as she watches him leave. “I meant to tell you. You remember Michael, right? He’s having an opening night in his gallery tonight and is short on staff so I told him he could borrow Jerry.”

Erik’s heart skips painfully. That’s the same turtleneck guy from mistress’ party, isn’t it? It has to be.

“What for?” master finally looks up from his phone, frowning.

“Catering and help with the clean-up, that’s all. He’ll be returned completely unharmed in the morning, I promise,” she smiles sweetly and seething anger boils under Erik’s skin. That fucking bitch. She _knows_ he wanted to fuck Jerry the last time. There’s no way he just wants Jerry to help with the fucking dishes.

“Alright, fine,” master agrees reluctantly before going back to his phone. “But next time some heads-up would be nice.”

“I know, it was just that some of his employees fell sick and he knows Jerry’s good at this serving and catering stuff.”

“Hm,” he hums, distracted. Erik’s practically vibrating with frustration but he keeps quiet. He’s not stupid enough to make a scene and argue in front of mistress. The rest of the lunch drags even more tortuously but somehow he manages to keep his mouth shut until they’re back in the bedroom.

“You mustn’t let Jerry go to that gallery thing!” he demands loudly as soon as the door closes behind them.

Master turns to him, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “What did you just say?” he asks darkly, his face turning hard. In hindsight, this was Erik’s clue to shut the fuck up and maybe try begging instead, but he was too far lost in his righteous anger.

“You can’t, master!” he yells, taking a step closer. “You don’t understand, you mustn’t—”

The slap hits him so hard and unexpectedly, he stumbles back, clutching at his throbbing cheek.

“I will do with my property as I see fit and you will _not_ tell me what I can or can’t do!”

“No, but master—”

Master closes the distance between them and Erik whimpers in fear when he reaches for him. He grabs a fistful of Erik’s hair and roughly drags to the other side of the bedroom. Erik does his best to follow along but the agonizing grip in his hair doesn’t ease, making his eyes water.

In the corner of the bedroom, master all but throws him to his knees, facing the corner.

“Stay here. I swear to god, if I hear one more word from you about it, I’ll gag you.”

Erik sniffles, resisting the urge to rub his sore scalp, and blinks the tears away as he stares at the white wall. Behind him, master paces the room for a bit, clearly furious, before he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Erik waits anxiously for a while, but when master doesn’t come back, he slumps against the wall, letting out a sob. He fucked up _bad._ What the hell was he thinking. He _knows_ how master hates when he gets demanding. And with the mood he’s been in lately…. What the hell did he expect?

Desperately, he tries to think of a way to salvage the situation and help Jerry. Maybe he’s making a fuss for nothing. Maybe it really is a catering gig. Maybe it’s not even the same Michael. Maybe it’s going to be fine.

All the assurances fall flat though and do nothing to easy his anxiety.

He has no idea how long he’s been kneeling in the corner like a naughty child. All he knows is that his knees are killing him. Eventually, he shifts to sit on his hip instead, and stretches his sore legs. He’ll go back to kneeling if he hears master coming back.

His cheek is still throbbing and he wonders if he’s going to bruise. His head is pounding too, from the stress most likely, and he closes his eyes leaning against the wall.

He wakes up when the light is switched on. He blinks blearily, confused that it’s dark outside already, and then clumsily scrambles back on his knees, his heart once again picking up as master just looms there in the door frame, watching him thoughtfully.

Slowly, master stalk closer. With a finger under his chin, he tilts his head up, making Erik look at him. He looks worn thin and tired, yet his eyes are still hard and watching him expectantly.

“What do you say,” he says coldly.

“I—” Erik says, swallowing his useless rage. “I apologize, master.”

Finally, master’s face softens a bit and he nods.

“Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you, boy, hm? I’ve been spoiling you and let you run your mouth too much. Did I give you the impression you can yell at me like this?”

“I—No. I’m sorry, master,” Erik says miserably again, unsure what else to say.

“Hm. Well. Don’t let that happen again. Now, go,” he waves his hand. “Go get yourself something to eat and then go to bed. I’ll join you later.”

Seeing no other option than obey, Erik hurries downstairs, breathless by the time he barges into the kitchen. Tracy is just finishing cleaning up and her eyes grow wide with pity as she takes him in.

“Oh no, honey, what did you do?” she asks. Abandoning the dirty dishes, she grabs an icepack from the freezer and wraps it in a towel, gently pressing it against Erik’s face.

“It’s nothing,” Erik says, hissing as the icepack touches his sore cheek. “Where’s Jerry?”

“He went to help at some event in a gallery.”

Erik’s stomach sinks. He’s too late. He’s gone already.

Tracy frowns, looking at him with worry. “It’s fine, he’ll be back in the morning. I’ve helped with events like this myself a few times, it’s not that bad. Now sit down, I’ll heat you up something to eat.”

There’s nothing Erik can do but hope Tracy’s right as he plops down at the kitchen table and miserably watches her load up a plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if updates get a bit slower - we are under lockdown 2.0 in Austria so no kindergarten :( I hope you're doing fine!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now a series! I started posting a little backstory for Jerry so if you wanna get updates on anything in this series, it's probably best to subscribe to the series as such.
> 
> Also, sorry for the wait but at least the chapter is like twice the length of a regular update. And sorry if there are any typos and such, I read like 20 times but my brain is not working anymore. Meh:)

He’s still wide awake by the time master joins him in bed. There’s no way he’s going to be able to convincingly pretend he’s already asleep and so he doesn’t even bother, lying there stiffly as far from master as the bed allows, watching him slip under the cover.

In the dark, master heaves a soft sight, sounding tired and resigned.

“C’mere,” he whispers, opening his arms invitingly.

Erik recognizes the truce offer for what it is but at the moment there’s nothing he wants to do _less_ than go near him. Hell, he’d rather sleep on the floor right now then in master’s arms. Bile rises in this throat and for a moment he indulges himself in the fantasy of telling him to _fuck off_ and turning his back to him.

The fleeting moment is gone soon enough and annoyingly, Erik’s voice of reason wins again. There’s nothing he will gain from giving master the cold shoulder. Selfishly, he wants to, but he knows he needs master on his good side if he hopes to help Jerry. And somehow, he feels he _will_ need that help.

He shuffles close, still rigid and tense, unable to make himself relax no matter how much he tries. Ever so gently, master runs the pad of finger down Erik’s cheek.

“I didn’t mean to hit you so hard,” he sighs, unhappily. “It’s the stress from work. Don’t ever yell at me like that again, okay? I don’t _want_ to hurt you, you know?”

“Okay, master,” Erik says hollowly, concentrating on making his muscles relax. “But—” he looks up and doesn’t miss the warning look master gives him. The rest of sentence dies on his lips. What’s the point, anyway.

“Let’s sleep, it’s late. We can talk tomorrow.”

Erik barely gets any sleep that night. Once master falls asleep, he rolls away, curling on his side away from master, listening to the quiet of the night, thinking. Early in the morning he must have dozed off because when he wakes up, master’s gone.

Quietly Erik slips out of the bed, too. He’s feels like shit, his head throbbing from the lack of sleep and his face still tender from the slap. After peeking into the garage to make sure master’s really gone and not just holed up in his office, he steals through the still sleeping house and heads to the slaves’ quarters.

He can hear Tracy already rummaging around in her room as he tiptoes past her door but manages to slip to Jerry’s room unnoticed.

It’s empty, still. The bed is perfectly made and the few things Jerry owns are neatly put away. It’s like no one even lives here.

Sitting on the spare bed, he hugs his knees and waits in the darkness. Without any window, there’s only a sliver of light coming from underneath the door from the always-lit corridor. Soon his eyes start to grow heavy but he startles awake when he hears steps descending down the stairs.

Immediately he knows it’s Jerry from the soft padding of his feet, though right away he can tell there’s something wrong. He’s going down way too slowly and heavily, and Erik’s stomach turns to ice.

With his breath held, he listens to Jerry limp down the corridor and into his room. The light switches on and Jerry comes in. He doesn’t notice Erik pressed into the corner of the bed; instead he leans against the door behind him, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the wood, his face contorted in despair and pain.

“What did he do to you?” Erik asks, his heart beating with anger.

“What the—” Jerry flails, his eyes shooting open. “Erik! Wha… why in the world are you sitting here in the dark and—oh.”

The anger bleeds from his face, replaced by sadness. He comes closer, climbing onto the bed in painfully slow movements and Erik doesn’t miss the way he wince as he sits down.

“What happened?” he asks, stroking Erik’s bruised cheek. His fingers are as cold as ice and Erik takes both of his hands in his, trying to warm them.

“Doesn’t matter,” Erik shrugs.

“You argued with him, didn’t you?”

“I might have yelled at him a bit.”

“Why,” Jerry groans unhappily. “I told you not to—”

“What did that bastard do to you?” Erik interrupts him, still mad. “He hurt you! Did you even go to the gallery? Was there even a thing?”

“Erik,” Jerry pleads. He pulls his hands free from where Erik has uselessly been trying to rub some warmth into them and presses the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Can we not—”

“He fucked you, didn’t he? How bad is it? You need to tell master!”

Instead of arguing, Jerry’s doesn’t say a word, still hiding behind his shaking hands.

“Jerry, please,” Erik says softly, gently touching his shoulder. And then it’s like the dam’s been broken; Jerry flings himself around Erik and starts crying inconsolably, muffling his sobs in Erik’s shirt.

Erik’s heart breaks into a million pieces. Erik has felt helpless and powerless many times before but never like this; he doesn’t know if he wants to cry or scream as he holds Jerry, petting his hair gingerly and waiting for him to calm down.

“I—I’m so f-fucked, Erik,” Jerry hiccups when he’s finally able to catch his breath.

“What? No, it’s going to be fine. We’re going to tell master and—"

“No,” Jerry pulls away, his eyes growing wide. “You can’t. You can’t tell him, please.”

“Are you out of your mind? Like hell I’m not going to—”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Jerry shakes his head frantically, tears once again rolling down his cheeks. “H-he wants to buy me, he said he’s gonna ask mistress to sell me. I’m so scared, Erik. I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna…” he hugs his knees, rocking slightly back and forth. “I should have – I should have fucked up and spilled some wine on some of those ugly paintings or something.”

“Wait, slow down. He wants to _buy you?_ What happened?”

“There was some kind fancy event at the gallery, we prepared and served food, and poured drinks, all the usual, and Erik, he’s _vicious_ , you have no idea, even the employees are terrified of him,” Jerry talks quickly through his chattering teeth. “I didn’t want to piss him off so I did my best, and afterward he said I’m more capable than most of his lazy staff and that he could really use someone like me and… then he—he fucked me in one of empty rooms and… I don’t think he was very pleased but he said that’s something ‘we’ll work on’,” Jerry sniffles, wiping away the tears that keep silently rolling down his cheeks.

“Yeah, I’m sorry but you _need_ to tell master,” he says softly, and as expected, Jerry starts to panic all anew.

“No, no, no, please! He already said he’s going to borrow me again next weekend, I’ll just… just, be slow and clumsy and he’ll realize I’m useless and a terrible fuck and he won’t want me anymore. He’ll be glad he didn’t buy me,” Jerry blinks at him with huge hopeful eyes and Erik pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry, Jerry, but that’s like the worst plan I have ever heard. First off, there’s no way master would ever _sell_ you—”

“Really?” Jerry scoffs, slightly hysterical. “You don’t think mistress will talk master into selling me? Or giving me away as a favor to a _gallery owner_?”

Erik opens his mouth in protest and nothing comes out. Does he trust master not to do that? He’s not sure anymore.

“Erik, please,” Jerry pleads, sounding beyond exhausted.

“Okay. Alright,” Erik says soothingly, hugging him again. It’s clear Jerry’s not thinking straight right now. Erik doesn’t blame him, either. He’s hurt and tired and scared, no wonder he’s a bit out of it.

“Are you hurt? How bad is it?” Erik asks quietly when Jerry starts to grow heavy in his arms.

“I—no, I’m not, I just feel like I’ve been torn in half and my guts have been rearranged,” he mutters, half-asleep, and Erik winces. He leads him to his bed, lying down next to him.

“It’s going be alright. We’ll figure something out, I promise, everything’s gonna be fine,” he promises and even though they both know how empty these words are, Jerry seems to take some comfort in them, cuddling closer before falling asleep.

Erik’s about to tuck the sleeping boy in when he notices his shirt has ridden up, revealing a set of finger-shaped bruises around his hips. Hissing, Erik pulls the blanket all the way up to his shoulder, watching him a moment more before leaving the room.

Still shaking with fury, feeling like’s going to come apart at any moment, he runs back to the bedroom, going straight for one of drawers, ramming his hand behind it until his fingers touch the little jar that he hid there what feels like an eternity ago.

After fishing it out impatiently, scraping the skin off his knuckles in the process, he hides it in his pocket and then rummages through master’s bathroom until he finds a bottle of painkillers in the cabinet behind the mirror. They’re the standard over-the-counter stuff and it’s not like anyone’s going to notice if he takes a few.

He hurries back downstairs, where he quietly places both the small jar and the three painkillers under Jerry’s pillow. Jerry only mutters something, frowning and twitching restlessly even in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up.

Now he can only hope Jerry will find them. It’s still better than leaving them on the nightstand, risking Dennis will come check on him unexpectedly and see them.

As silently slips out of the slaves’ quarters, he almost has a heart-attack when someone grabs his arm.

“Where have you been, master’s looking for you,” Dennis frowns, looking him up and down.

“Oh. He’s back already? Is—is he mad?”

“Well, he’s… not in the best mood, no. How’s Jerry?” Dennis asks, his eyes flicking to the slaves’ quarters.

“He’s—” Erik hesitates, his heart picking up. “Tired. Sleeping,” he says in the end, swallowing the guilt about lying to Dennis. It’s not the right time. He’d just go to master straight away and cause a huge scene and… the least he can do is give Jerry some time to rest.

“Right, I can imagine. I’ll let him take the day off. Now go, he’s in the office, don’t keep him waiting.”

Steeling himself, he knocks on master’s door, waiting to be called in. Master’s in a heated argument over the phone at the moment but he snaps his finger, pointing at the floor next to him and Erik obediently goes to his knees there.

It takes a long time for master to finish, giving Erik time to think. Whichever way he looks at the situation, he always ends up with same conclusion. He needs to tell master. Jerry’s plan is nothing but a recipe for disaster. Now that the man has seen that Jerry’s capable and hard-working, he’s not going to buy if just starts pretending he doesn’t know how to pour a drink properly. He’ll just think he’s slacking and beat him for it.

No, he clearly set his eyes on Jerry already and there is no way Erik is going to let Jerry go back to him for another event. Not if he can help it.

He just has to be smarter about it this time. He needs to wait for the right moment when master’s in a good mood and then talk to him, calmly. Definitely no yelling and demanding, that was a bad fucking idea. Master’s not cruel, Erik’s pretty sure he wouldn’t want Jerry hurt like this. He’s quite possessive and protective, too. Erik just has to use that to his advantage.

“Right, okay,” master finally ends the call and looks at Erik. “Let’s go, we’re going out.”

“Out, master?” Erik asks tentatively but master only raises his eyebrows warningly. Fuck, he really hopes they’re not going to see Zach’s master again. Fear twists his stomach only thinking about it. He doesn’t think he could deal with that today.

When master doesn’t tell him to get ‘presentable’ but leads to him the car right away, Erik allows himself to hope. They drive wordlessly for a while, Erik tense as a bowstring, but soon relaxes when they take a turn away from the city.

“Where are we going, master?” he dares ask after a while.

“I just thought you could use some time out of the house. I know I do.”

It’s been some time since Erik got to go outside, that’s true. He was too stressed and worried to think much about it and only now that they’re climbing up a narrow road winding through the vineyards while the ocean is sparkling deep down beneath them does it catch up to him just how sick he was of those four walls.

After about twenty minutes, master finally parks the car by the side of the road and they walk a short distance along a narrow dusty path until they reach a little opening above the cliff with a breath-taking view of the coastline. They’re so high up it make Erik’s head spin and he instinctively presses closer to master.

“It’s a nice view, isn’t it?” master murmurs, hugging him from behind. “Makes all the worries feel a little… less significant, doesn’t it?”

Erik thinks of Jerry, hurting and scared in his bed. It still feels pretty fucking significant to him but he makes himself smile, turning to master.

“It is beautiful, master. Thank you for taking me here. And—I really am sorry. About yesterday.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” master shakes his head. “It’s alright. Let’s not talk about it anymore. Let’s eat, I brought some sandwiches.”

Master even produces a large picnic blanket and Erik cuddles closer as they eat. It’s such a peaceful moment and master seems to be in the best mood he’s been in weeks. Erik’s determined not to ruin it, as much as he’s dying to just tell master about everything.

No, that wouldn’t end well. In his head he makes up a plan. Today he’ll be the sweetest, most affectionate, submissive slave in the world and then in the evening, hopefully after master fucks him and is pleasantly exhausted, he’ll tell him. No way he’ll get too mad then, right? He only needs to choose his words right.

As it turns out, this is easier said than done. After their picnic, master has him stay in his office for hours while he works and staying still, without sighing or fidgeting or huffing impatiently as he’s both bored and worried out of his mind is near impossible.

Somehow, though, he manages to keep his quiet and inobtrusive, only affectionately nuzzling against master’s thigh from time, which is rewarded by master patting his head fondly.

During dinner, Jerry’s nowhere to be seen. It’s Tracy serving the meal and Erik uselessly keeps twisting his neck and straining his ears, hoping to catch a glimpse of him or hear his voice. Master, of course, doesn’t seem worried in the slightest, enjoying his dinner and feeding Erik more than usual. It takes all of Erik’s willpower to muster a hopefully admiring smile whenever master glanced down at him.

He’s exhausted, mentally mostly, by the time they go back to the bedroom. Master plops on the bed, pulling out his phone, ignoring Erik completely, and Erik swears to himself. This is not how he planned for the evening to go.

Fuck that. Taking a steadying breath in, he slowly gets on the bed, crawling towards master on all fours. He straddles him, keeping most of his weight on his legs, and starts to slowly unbutton master’s shirt.

“What are you doing?” master asks, amused, glancing at Erik over his phone.

Erik doesn’t answer, only grins, and leans down to trail kisses down master’s firm stomach. He reaches for master’s belt buckle, holding his breath, half-expecting master to grab his hair to stop him. It’s not that he thinks master would resent a blow job, more that it always happens on _his_ terms, and Erik taking initiative like this feel almost… rebellious.

Encouraged when master doesn’t stop him, he frees his dick from his pants and eagerly wraps his mouth around him, getting him hard in no time.

Master only leans back against the headboard with a satisfied moan, placing his hands on Erik’s head gently. He doesn’t push him down, though, only rests his hands there and lets Erik set his own pace.

It’s weirdly exhilarating, being in control of the situation for once, and he does his best to make it good for master, taking his time without getting master angry for teasing him. Soon master’s breath picks up and his little moans more urgent. Erik’s ready when master comes down his throat and he manages to keep himself from grimacing at the salty bitter taste, swallowing everything and then licking master clean.

Grinning victoriously at the look of complete bliss on master’s face, he cuddles next to him, pressing his face against his chest, enjoying the sound of his heart still thudding quickly. 

“Well,” master chuckles once he catches his breath. “That was nice.”

Erik peers up at master, not missing the contemplative look on his face.

“You are being _very_ sweet today,” master notes as plays with his hair, and Erik’s heart picks up. He can hear the unspoken question behind the words and he knows this is his chance.

“I was just thinking about how lucky I am, master.”

“Oh?” master raises his eyebrows, amused.

“Yeah. Because I know you wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. You protect me. You… You wouldn’t let anyone touch me, right? You protect what’s _yours.”_

Master’s amused expression slips away and he sits up a little. “Did anyone touch you?” he demands, frowning.

“No, no, no!” Erik quickly hurries to assure him. Fuck, he doesn’t want to make this about himself. That’s a whole another story and it’s not important right now. Jerry’s important. “No, no one would dare. That’s what I’m saying, you _protect_ me.”

“Hm,” master hums thoughtfully and he sags back down. Erik waits a moment, settling back against master’s chest. He’s so nervous it’s making him sick but he still pushes on.

“I’m just worried about Jerry,” he says softly.

“Why? What are you talking about?” master sounds genuinely confused and Erik pushes down his irritation. Maybe if he’d paid some fucking attention to him, he’d _know_ why.

“I know you don’t like him the way you like me, but he’s still yours, isn’t he? Who is going to protect _him_ if not you, master?”

“Erik, what are you talking about,” master says warningly, sitting up, and Erik quickly slips out of the bed taking a few steps out of master’s reach. His hands are shaking and his heart beats so hard it hurts, but he barrels on. He starts to talk quickly, desperate to get it all out before master can silence him again.

“When you were gone, on the conference, mistress held a party and then she let her friend – the Michael guy – take Jerry to his bedroom. He made him suck him off and hurt him!”

Frowning, master gets up too and Erik quickly backs away, putting the bed between them.

“And then he hurt him again yesterday at the gallery thing! He fucked him! Jerry’s _yours_ and some ugly old creep _fucked him_ behind your back _!_ ” he yells, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Well, there goes his plan to talk about it calmly and not yell at master again. Master is looking at him with a mix of horror and barely concealed rage and Erik finally makes himself shut up. He’s now backed himself into a corner and he holds his breath as he watches master pace the bedroom furiously.

“Are you sure about this? I swear to God, if you’re making this up….”

“I’m not lying, master! I swear, I saw the bruises and all…”

“I’m going to _kill_ him,” he grits through his teeth, looking downright murderous, and Erik’s stomach turns painfully. Who’s _him_? Surely he means the guy, right? He wouldn’t be mad at Jerry, would he?

“Master?” he asks tentatively.

“Come with me,” master only snaps angrily and Erik almost trips over his own feet in his hurry to catch up with master who’s already left the bedroom. He stomps through the house, clearly seething with rage, and heads unmistakenly to the slaves’ quarters.

“Master, wait,” Erik tries but is completely ignored and all he can do is continue trotting after him.

Master, with Erik’s on his heels, breathless, barges into Jerry’s room with such a force the door bangs against the wall. Jerry, who was lying in bed, reading, takes one look at master’s angry face and turns white as a sheet.

“Strip!” master barks and Erik stomach twists with guilt and sympathy when Jerry’s eyes go wide with terror. He slips from the bed onto his knees, shaking as a leaf.

“I’m sorry, master, please, I’m sorry,” he pleads barely audibly, shaking his head desperately.

“I want to see for myself, I said strip!”

Erik startles when Dennis pushes him out of the way and slips into the room. He steps in front of Jerry, shielding him, and looks master straight in the eyes.

“Whatever this is about, master, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” he says calmly.

“Move!” master only orders impatiently. Dennis plants his feet, squaring his shoulders and holds his ground. Despite how terrified Erik is right now, he feels a spark of admiration for the older slave.

“Master, can’t you see you’re scaring the boy?” Dennis asks softly. Behind him, Jerry’s pressed his forehead to the floor and is sobbing softly.

There’s a short staring contest between master and Dennis and it seems everyone in the room is holding their breaths. The tense moment is broken by master taking in a deep breath in, slowly letting it out through his nose.

“See? I’m calm. Now move.”

Reluctantly Dennis takes a step to the side, still hovering nearby.

Master sits on his hunches next to the trembling boy.

“Jerry? I need you to tell me what happened,” he says. It seems he really did manage to get his anger under control as his voice is measured, if strict.

“I—I d-don’t know what… I’m s-sorry, please,” Jerry’s crying so hard he struggles to get the words out and master sighs. Taking a hold of his arm, he pulls him up, ignoring his fearful whimpers, and pushes him to sit on the bed.

“Oh, hush,” master rolls his eyes, silencing Jerry’s frantic apologies, and then lifts his shirt up, revealing Jerry’s skinny bruised torso.

It’s even worse than Erik thought. The fingertip bruises are still there, even more pronounced now, but his whole left side is covered by one big mottled bruise wrapped around his chest, looking suspiciously as if someone kicked him in the ribs.

Dennis hisses, taking a step back in surprise and Erik swallows thickly. In the few tense beats of silence that follow, master’s anger seems to return with renewed vigor. He grabs Jerry by the scruff of his neck, none-too-gently pushing him ahead of him and out of the room.

“Fuck,” Dennis swears, giving Erik a heated glare, before they both run after them.

It soon becomes clear master’s heading towards mistress’ room and that’s when Jerry starts freak out, sobbing desperately while trying to twist free of master’s hold. Of course he doesn’t stand a chance, being about half master’s size, and master doesn’t even slow down.

“Master!” Dennis say imploringly but is completely ignored this time. Master flings mistress’ door open, not bothering to knock, and drags the begging and crying boy inside.

“Gabe, what the hell—” she yells from where’s lying on the bed.

“Does this look like _completely unharmed_ to you?” he roars, lifting Jerry’s shirt up again. He then finally lets go of him and Jerry crumples to a heap on the floor.

“I didn’t know,” she says seriously. “I swear, I didn’t know.”

“Oh, so you didn’t know when a guest of yours helped himself to _my_ slave the moment I leave the house?”

Mistress’ eyes go to Erik, who’s hovering by the doorway together with Dennis, and if looks could kill, he’d drop dead to the floor at that instant.

She doesn’t answer, pursing her lips and looking away.

“Dennis,” master says coldly after a few moments of terse silence filled with nothing but Jerry’s labored breaths. “Take Erik and Jerry to Jerry’s room. They are to wait there until I come get them.”

With a nod, Dennis helps Jerry up. It takes a few tries until he’s able to put his trembling legs under him but Dennis supports him as he quickly leads him to where Erik’s waiting outside of mistress’ room, closing the door behind them.


	30. Chapter 30

The way back to the slaves’ quarters takes place in absolute silence. Erik takes one look at Dennis, who’s clearly fuming and doing his best not to show it, and decides keeping his mouth shut is probably for the best right now. It’s when they reach the door that his face softens as he places a reassuring hand on Jerry’s shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tells Jerry softly. “I’m going to talk to master, he’s going to calm down soon, don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. Try to get some rest.”

Jerry only nods miserably and goes inside with his head hung. When Erik tries to follow him, Dennis stops him, closing the door behind Jerry.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” he hisses, and now the last trace of warmth has gone from his face. Oh, he is _mad_ alright.

“I—I thought—”

“You thought you can take care of this yourself, huh? Wanted to play the hero? You think you know better? You know _nothing_! I have known master for over thirty-five years! When shit like this happens, you go to me and I fucking handle it!”

Erik swallows, shame twisting in his stomach. Having Dennis mad him is somehow worse than facing angry master and tears well in his eyes.

“A man took Jerry to his bedroom at the party and you didn’t think to tell me? How am I supposed to help you when you keep things like this from me. When will you get it through that thick skull of yours that I’m on _your_ side!”

“I—I’m sorry,” Erik croaks, blinking away the tears that blur his vision.

“Right,” Dennis scoffs. “Well I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, am I? The only one who suffered for your stupidity is Jerry.” He says coldly, finally stepping aside to open the door and let Erik in. “Stay there. I’ll send you up some food later.”

With that he’s gone and Erik slowly drags his numb feet inside. His head is spinning, his ears buzzing. Jerry’s on the bed, hugging his knees, his eyes red from crying watching Erik miserably.

“Jerry? I’m sorry. Please, I’m really sorry. Now master’s mad at me, mistress’ hates my guts, Dennis’ is angry with me, and it’s all my fault. Please don’t be mad at me too,” he pleads and he knows its selfish but he just can’t take knowing everyone here hates him right now.

“I’m not mad,” Jerry says softly, reaching out his hand. Erik takes it gratefully and sits next to him on the bed, pressing close.

“You’re not?”

“No. I don’t wanna spend my last moments here being mad at you.”

“What are talking about, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Of course I am,” Jerry huffs sadly, completely resigned. “It always ends like this. I get sent back or handed over to someone else, it doesn’t matter what I do or if it was my fault. _Stupid._ Thinking this would actually last.”

“Stop it,” Erik snaps angrily. “I said you’re not going anywhere!”

“Okay,” Jerry smiles tiredly and rests his head on Erik’s shoulder. They wait in silence, the time dragging sluggishly. There’s no clock in the room and Erik feels like he’s going to go insane, not knowing how long they have to stay there. A few more minutes? Until tomorrow? Days? How long before master’s ready to talk to them?

“What’s going to happen to the garden now? To the greenhouse?” Jerry speaks up again after some time and Erik whines unhappily.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to them because you’re not going anywhere!”

“Will you take care of them for me?” Jerry turns his pleading eyes to him and Erik realizes there’s no convincing him right now.

“Yes, okay, I will. I’ll watch all of the gardening videos on Youtube and then I’ll keep your plants alive and well, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Jerry breathes out, clearly reassured and it breaks Erik’s heart. “I’m really going to miss you.”

“No. Please don’t say that,” Erik pleads, closing his eyes, shaking his head.

“But I have to! You don’t understand – You don’t _know_ what’s going to happen tomorrow. This might be my last chance to say goodbye, I’d never forgive myself if I wasted it. You were like the best thing that happened to me and I wish—I wish I could have known you longer.”

Erik doesn’t answer, he couldn’t get the words out through his constricted throat even if he wanted to, anyway. And he’s not going to say goodbye, because Jerry is not fucking going anywhere. He only wraps his arm around Jerry’s slim shoulders and pulls him closer as they continue to wait.

\--°°--

Gabriel waits for Dennis to half-carry Jerry out of Hanna’s room and close the door behind them before he turns to his sister.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” he roars at her and she has the audacity to look offended.

“I’m sorry, okay?” she pouts.

“Oh no, you’re not. Not yet, anyway,” he grits through his teeth as he paces the room. “You don’t care, do you? You don’t give two shits about the slaves. You don’t care about anyone but _yourself!_ ”

She rolls her eyes, getting out of bed, and takes Gabriel’s hand in his, turning her large eyes on him. Oh, your puppy eyes won’t work this time, Gabriel thinks resentfully.

“Gabe. I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she says amicably. “We were both a bit drunk, it just happened – you know how it is, right?” she smirks. “But Michael really is interested in Jerry – he was very pleased with his services last night. In fact, I know he’d offer you a handsome sum for him. I know you only kept the boy out of pity and I get it, the auction is rough, but Michael would be glad to take him off your hands. It would a good place for him.”

“A good place? Didn’t you see the state of him?”

“Oh, that was an accident,” she waves her hand. “Michael would never hurt him, Jerry’s useful to him.”

“He _fucked him_!”

“Oh, so what? You’re fucking Erik, aren’t you?”

Gabriel watches her thoughtfully, considering. What in the world is she playing at? Is she trying to win Michael’s favor, is that it? Trying to get on the good side of a gallery owner in hopes of having her art displayed there? Oh, he wouldn’t put it past her. She’s always looking for way to benefit herself, isn’t she?

Hanna seems to take his silence for agreement and a self-satisfied smile spreads on her lips.

“You know what?” he smiles coldly back. “I have another idea. I am going to sue your friend for property damage. I lent him my slave in good faith and look how he returned him. Oh, and I’ll make sure the tabloids know about the case. They love this kind of drama, don’t you think?”

“You wouldn’t,” Hanna breathes out and for the first time, there’s genuine fear in her eyes.

“Try me.”

“Gabe, please. There’s no need for that. I’m sure we’ll figure something out That’ll ruin him!”

“Perhaps he shouldn’t have fucked my slave behind my back then, should he?”

“B-but… he’ll hate me! And you know how it is in art circles, everyone knows everyone, and people talk. I’ll be done for!”

“If your art career stands or falls by some second-rate gallery owner, then maybe your art’s not that good, is it?” he raises his voice and she just gapes at him. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told you, you need to start behaving like a reasonable adult. And you need to understand that there are consequences to your actions!”

For once, she is completely lost for words and Gabriel sighs. “I guess I am partly to blame, aren’t I? I only ever wanted the very best for you. Always bought you anything you wanted. I let you pursue your passion for art, bought you a studio, paid for your university and _this_ is what I get.”

“Gabe—” she tries but he raises a hand to silence, done with her excuses.

“I generously gave you my slaves at your disposal but seeing as you’re incapable of treating them with the care they deserve, you will no longer be allowed to use them.”

“What?” she frowns, uncomprehending. Right, such a thing is probably _unimaginable_ to her.

“You heard me. From now on, you will be cleaning your own room, doing your own laundry, washing your own car, serving your own meals and doing your own dishes. Don’t even talk to any of the slaves. Don’t even look in their general direction.”

“This is ridiculous, you can’t mean that! I’m your sister, are you seriously going to choose some scrawny little damaged slave over me?”

He looks at her unhappily. She doesn’t get it, of course she doesn’t. Is there even hope for her that one day she will? Or is it too late? Suddenly the anger seems to leave him, replaced by sadness.

“It would probably be for the best if you left for the uni earlier this year,” he says quietly as he’s about to leave the room.

“Are you seriously kicking me out?” she screeches.

“I’m not kicking you out. I love you Hanna but you need to get your shit together.”

“Fuck you, Gabriel. I fucking hate you!” she yells and then slams the door behind him. The sound of things crashing to the floor, breaking, follows soon after and Gabriel shakes his head, a heavy feeling of hopelessness in his stomach as he walks away.

After making a few phone calls, Gabriel finally heads down to the slaves’ quarters. As much as he would rather not deal with them right now, he knows it would be too cruel to keep them waiting the whole night, especially with how scared Jerry was earlier.

And it’s not that he doesn’t feel sorry for the boy, he does, but at the same time, he’s can’t go too easy on him. For his own sake, he needs to drive it home that there is to be absolutely no more lying and hiding things from him in the future.

Taking in a deep breath, he squares his shoulders and puts on his strict face as he opens the door. The boys are sitting on the bed, holding hands, and immediately Jerry makes a move to slide down onto his knees when he enters

“No, stay there,” Gabriel stops him and in jerky movements, Jerry returns to bed, hunching on himself. Erik keeps his eyes down too, though he looks nowhere near cowed, a defiant frown on his face.

“I,” Gabriel starts slowly. “am very disappointed. In both of you,” he says calmly and ignores Jerry’s whimper as he continues. “Lying to me. Hidings things to me. That is _not_ how we do things here.”

“To be fair, I did try to tell you,” Erik mutters under his breath and Jerry shoots him an equally pleading and exasperated look.

“Quiet!” Gabriel snaps. “I have been home for over a week and not once have you tried to talk to me. The only reason you even tried to tell me was when you realized Jerry’s in trouble. Had the man not asked for Jerry again, you would have never told me what happened at the party, or am I mistaken?” he raises his voice and Erik at least has the decency to look a bit guilty.

“No, master, you are not.”

“Well then.”

Gabriel takes a calming breath. There’s probably not much point in continuing to lecture and yell at them right now. Not when Jerry’s hurt and probably in a lot of pain right now.

“We are going to talk more about this later, when things have calmed down a bit. It’s been a long evening. Jerry, here, I brought you some painkillers.”

The boy takes the pills hesitantly, holding them in his hand.

“I already gave him painkillers,” Erik suddenly blurts out.

“You _what_?” Gabriel snaps, his anger flaring again. Oh god, give him patience with these two.

“I found them in the bathroom and I gave him three, I’m sorry, master.”

“Right, of course,” Gabriel pinches the bridge of his nose. To be honest, he’s grateful Erik admitted to it because Jerry would probably sooner let himself be overmedicated than snitch on him. “Taking drugs from my cabinet without permission, I’ll just add that to your tally of transgressions, shall I?”

“I am _so_ getting punished, aren’t I?” Erik groans unhappily and Gabriel snorts despite himself.

“Oh, you think? Of course you are. Both of you. Though not today or tomorrow. I think we all need some time to calm down first. But you will be punished and then we will get this behind us and you will both promise me not to hide things from me in the future.”

While Erik grimaces, hanging his head, Jerry’s head whips up at these words, looking at Gabriel with a barely suppressed hope.

Oh, is that what he was thinking? He still doesn’t believe Gabriel’s actually keeping him, does he?

“Alright,” Gabriel sighs. “Erik, go back upstairs and wait for me in the bedroom.”

Instead of obeying instantly, the boy hesitates, looking like he’s about to protest and Gabriel’s patience runs thin.

“You do _not_ want to test me right now, boy! I said go!” Gabriel raises his voice, pointing to the door, and finally, Erik slinks outside, the sound of him running upstairs following shortly after.

When he’s gone, Gabriel sits on the bed too, turning seriously Jerry.

“I am not sending you away,” he says gently once Erik’s gone.

“Thank you, master,” Jerry swallows thickly, his red-rimmed eyes once again filling with fresh tears.

“Come here,” Gabriel says, opening his arms. Ever since the disaster in his bedroom shortly after he got here, Gabriel’s been cautious about touching him, but he can’t help himself now, seeing him so distraught.

The boy’s stiff in his arms, shaking with his suppressed sobs, and Gabriel sighs unhappily. This really is such a disaster of a night.

“This is your home now and I’m not going to sell you. Not now, not ever. I only wish you’d have a bit more trust in me, huh?” he says smiles softly at him.

“I’m s-sorry, master. I’ll do better, I swear, I will,” Jerry sniffles, wiping his eyes with shaking hands.

It’s not that Gabriel doesn’t understand him. He’s been tossed around his entire life, discarded on a whim by his masters one too many times. And at such a young age, too, that is bound to do leave him with some serious trust issues.

Careful not to jostle his bruised ribs too much, he runs a soothing hand up and down his back. Soon enough, Jerry seems to get himself under control. Most likely, he’s just too exhausted to keep up the tears at this moment. He gets restless and Gabriel lets him pull away, giving him space.

“Master?” he speaks up after a while, nervously fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Hm?”

“Please don’t be too hard on Erik—please? It wasn’t really his fault. I begged him not tell you. I made him swear he wouldn’t.”

“Erik is responsible for his own decision,” Gabriel says mildly but then takes mercy on him when he hangs his head miserably. “But don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine. You know I’m not actually going to hurt him.” His phones pings in his pocket at that moment and he quickly looks at the screen.

“Oh good, they’re here. A doctor is coming to check you up and collect evidence.”

Jerry’s face falls and he slumps dejectedly. Still, he doesn’t argue, only nods, while looking like a heap of misery.

Gabriel’s well aware of how much Jerry’s going to hate what’s coming but it needs to be done. Not only to make sure Jerry’s not seriously injured but if he is going to stand any chance against the bastard who did this to him, he needs actual evidence.

Proving sexual assault against a slave is always tricky as the word of the slave means absolutely nothing in court. And also, as slaves can’t actually consent, the best Gabriel can hope for is misuse and damage of borrowed property.

Normally, authorities would hardly waste their time with a case like this. The slave is alive and fine, more or less, of course no one’s going to waste their resources on investigating. It’s at times like these that Gabriel appreciates his wealth and influence. All it took was a promise of a generous donation to the underpaid, understaffed department and he’s got a forensic expert and a doctor at his door within an hour.

They come in, two men in suits, looking tired and none too happy to be here. Jerry presses himself in the corner, watching them with wide terrified eyes.

“Be good,” Gabriel orders gently. “And it’ll soon be over with.”

He takes a step back to make way for the doctor in the small room and Jerry whimpers, grabbing at him in panic.

“Please, stay? Master, please?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures him. He then stays by his side the entire time as the men take swabs from every place imaginable, prod at his bruised ribs, take pictures and draw blood for STD tests. It takes longer than Gabriel would have thought and by the end, Jerry looks completely overwhelmed.

When they finally pack up their things and leave, Gabriel lets out a breath, too.

“Alright, that’s done. Try to get some rest now, everything will seem better in the morning.”

Jerry doesn’t have to be told twice. He curls into a tight ball in his bed, pulling the cover all the way to his ears and closes his eyes.

On his way out, Gabriel runs into Dennis, who’s leaning against the wall in the rec room, watching Gabriel seriously. Luckily he’s smart enough not to say a word about Gabriel’s anger tantrum earlier, only nods towards Jerry’s room.

“How is he?” he asks softly.

“Fine. Well… as fine as he can be, I guess. Maybe check on him later?”

“I will, master.”

“Goodnight then, Dennis.”

It’s late at night when he makes it back to the bedroom but Erik’s still waiting for him, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, eyes trained intently on the door.

“Master,” he lets out a relieved breath. He slides down from the bed and then stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, eying Gabriel warily.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Erik just nods, biting his lip, clearly itching to ask something. In the end he doesn’t, waiting silently for Gabriel to get ready for bed. When they slip under the cover, this time he doesn’t hesitate when Gabriel opens his arm and presses close, melting into the touch instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi and chat at my discord if you want to:) https://discord.gg/zTf4Yjw


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are my chapters getting so long?!?

Erik doesn’t even need to open his eyes to know he’s slept late. He can tell from the sun warming his naked body, the blanket crumpled at his feet, and the already warm breeze coming from the window that master must have cracked open before he left.

He stretches in the silk bedsheets like a lazy cat, thinking about yesterday. He wonders what master talked about with mistress, what’s going to happen now. Though from what he said about not lying in the future, it seems Jerry’s really not going anywhere.

Of course he’s not. But Erik _knew_ that, right?

Despite the bravado he put up in front of Jerry, he was still scared shitless. Terrified deep down that mistress would manage to sweet-talk master into selling him. He doesn’t know what he would do – he’d… he’d never forgive master. Never.

And then when he sent him away, Erik didn’t want to leave Jerry alone with master. What were they talking about so long anyway? It felt like hours of staring nervously at the door before master finally came.

Suddenly he’s restless, desperate to see Jerry to make sure he’s okay. Right as he decides to get up, the door opens and two strange men enter the bedroom.

“What the fuck?” Erik yelps, tugging at the blanket tangled around his legs to cover himself. The older of the two ignores him completely, while the younger one smirks at him shortly before placing a heavy looking box and a stepladder on the floor.

The box is full of different tools and only now does Erik notice both of them are wearing work uniforms with a company logo on it.

“Right, that’s the bedroom—” master enters a moment after them. “Good morning, sweetheart, don’t mind us,” he grins at him and Erik glares back, still clutching the cover all the way to his chin. It seems to amuse master greatly as he wraps the blanket around himself and quickly hobbles to the bathroom, snatching some pants and a t-shirt on the way.

Once he’s dressed, he watches them curiously as the older one starts to drill into the wall in one of the corners.

“What’s going on, master?”

“I’m getting cameras installed everywhere.”

“Everywhere?

“Yes, everywhere. In the slaves’ quarters, all spare bedrooms, even the bathroom. Oh, don’t worry,” he rolls his eyes when he sees Erik’s horrified look. “It’s for your protection. I’m not going to spy on you on day-to-day basis.”

“Okay, master,” Erik says softly, far from reassured.

“Go on, go get some breakfast,” master shoes him away and Erik reluctantly leaves the bedroom. He runs into several more workers on his way; the whole house is swarming with them but they all ignore him completely.

Tracy’s already preparing lunch in the kitchen but she pulls out a still warm plate of eggs and sausages from the oven for him and he gives her a grateful smile.

“Thank you,” he mumbles as he slides onto the bench at the kitchen table.

“Are you okay? I have never seen master this angry before,” she says quietly, giving Erik a worried look.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassures, pushing the food around the plate miserably. “It was all my fault, though.”

“No. It absolutely wasn’t,” she disagrees categorically, giving him a stern look. “How could it? I know you were doing your best in a shitty situation. No one else is to blame than mistress. And master,” she whispers angrily before going back to the stove.

Erik quickly blinks as his eyes mist over and then quickly collects himself.

“Have you talked to Jerry today?” Erik asks around the mouthful of eggs. 

“I have.”

It’s Dennis who answers, standing at the kitchen door, and Erik’s stomach sinks. Unable to meet his eyes, he hunches over his cooling breakfast. It doesn’t matter what Tracy thinks. Dennis hates his guts, he made that pretty clear yesterday.

“He’s fine, he’s coming up later. Erik, look,” he sighs, joining him across the table. “I’m sorry I lost my temper with you yesterday.”

Erik looks up in surprise, meeting Dennis’ kind but serious dark eyes. “I was frustrated and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair to expect you to trust me, not when you haven’t even been here that long. And I apologize for that.”

It feels like a weight has been take off his shoulder and he smiles, letting out a breath. “Okay. Apology accepted,” he agrees eagerly. He knows he screwed up and wishes he’d done a lot of things differently but can’t stand the idea of the other slaves blaming him.

As if it wasn’t enough that mistress hates him. The thought is like a bucket of cold water. Sooner or later, master will have to get back to work and what’s mistress going to do then? That’s what the cameras are for, isn’t it?

He doesn’t doubt mistress will be able to work around them if she wants. She’s cunning enough.

A moment later, Jerry joins them, giving everyone a shy smile and then turns red, when they all look at him with varying degree of concern.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbles. “I told you I’m fine. Oh, and master said we are to wait here for him, that he wants to talk to us all.”

They all squeeze at the small table as they wait and an uneasy silence hangs over them. Next to Erik, Jerry’s leg is jiggling up and down and he’s nervously nibbling at his nail.

“I’m sure it’s nothing bad,” Erik says softly and Jerry nods, though he doesn’t seem to calm down in the slightest.

Luckily they don’t have to wait long and soon enough they hear master’s heavy sure strides come down the hall. They get up, lining up against the counters.

“Good, you’re all here,” master stands in front of them, hands crossed over his chest. “I believe you all know what happened here, right?” he asks and they all nod. “Needless to say, I was very disappointed. I don’t want anything like this ever happening again and that’s why things are going to change here. From now on, you will not be serving my sister. At all.”

They all exchange uncertain glances and master continues. “That means, you will not clean her room or serve her food, or wash her dishes. Nothing. If she tells you to do something, you will answer ‘I am not allowed to take orders you from you’. Are we clear?”

“Yes, master,” they mutter quietly. Oh, that’s bound to work out great, Erik thinks bitterly. He can totally see her going with it and not make their lives hell just out of spite.

As it turns out, Erik didn’t need to worry as for the next two days, mistress is nowhere to be seen, holed up in her room, clearly sulking. There’s a weird tension in the house, as if everyone is waiting for something to happen, tiptoeing around each other in anxious anticipation.

On the third day, as Erik turns the corner down the hall on his way to grab some lunch, he almost runs into mistress. She’s standing in front of an open closet, two large pieces of luggage open at her feet while she carelessly throws things in them.

Immediately, Erik spins on his heel, about make a run for it but it’s too late.

“You, stop,” she snaps.

“M’not allowed to take orders from you,” he mutters as he continues to retreat but she’s faster, grabbing his arm and pinning him against the wall. She takes hold of his face, her long nails like claws digging into his cheeks.

“You,” she sneers. Erik’s eyes flick up to the tiny camera in the corner, and he stays still. “Gabe and I had a good thing going before you had to show up and ruin everything. You don’t deserve to be here, you’re just a filthy little whore,” she sputters and lets go of him. “Get out of my sight! Enjoy your comfy little life here while it lasts.”

Rubbing his sore cheeks, Erik quickly runs back upstairs, closing himself in the bedroom, leaning against the door as he waits for his hands to stop shaking.

That evening mistress leaves. Master and her don’t part on good terms, judging from the heated words they exchange even as mistress’ loading up her car. Not that Erik’s eavesdropping. Alright, he is but the door to the garage is too thick to make out the words, anyway.

When master comes out of the garage, Erik quickly jumps away, hiding behind the corner. He watches as master just stands there for a long minute, looking frayed and miserable, before he schools his face and slowly walks away.

It’s a few days later and Erik is sitting in the grass outside with his sketchbook in his lap, taking advantage of the first sunny day after several days of non-stop drizzle. Taking a deep breath in of the late summer air, he takes a moment appreciate the quiet moment.

It has been so peaceful in the past few days. With mistress gone, it’s as if everyone has taken a breath of relief and everything started to get back to normal. Even master’s initially sour mood improved quickly and he seemed to be more relaxed and at ease than in a long time.

He still insists on Jerry staying on bedrest until his cracked ribs heal completely, though. Looking around himself, Erik notices the flowers could definitely use a bit of grooming, especially after the rains. He knows Jerry’s been already getting pretty restless, too. Not that he would ever complain to master, but he did grumble about not being made of glass when Erik comes to keep him company and watch a movie together.

The door to the garden opens and Erik looks over his shoulder to see master come out, balancing a cup of coffee in his hand and a laptop under his arm. He sits at the table under the pergola, making himself comfortable, and beckons Erik to come closer.

Leaving his untouched sketchbook in the grass, he quickly hurries closer.

“Master?”

Master slides a little pocket knife on the table towards Erik, who just stares at it, dumbfounded.

“See that tree by the wall? Go and cut yourself a switch,” he smiles and Erik’s stomach drops. He gingerly takes the knife but can’t make himself move. Instead he turns pleading eyes at master, who only chuckles.

“What? You didn’t think I forgot about your punishment, did you?”

“No, but… seriously, master?” he pouts. This is so humiliating. It’s not like master doesn’t have a whole box of perfectly suitable implements to beat him with.

“Yes, seriously,” master says sternly and then swats his ass. “Now, go, I want to drink my coffee.”

Angrily, he grabs the knife and stomps away, master’s amused eyes following him all the way to the tree.

As it turns out, cutting a switch is not that easy, especially when he has no idea what he’s doing. Soon enough, he finds himself swearing profusely under his breath.

“What are you doing to that poor tree?”

Erik startles at Dennis’ voice and glares at him.

“I,” he grunts as the struggles to hack away the stupid branch, “am cutting a switch. Apparently.”

Dennis chuckles and Erik huffs. “I’m glad you’re finding that funny,” he grits through his teeth.

“I have cut my fair share of switches from this tree myself,” Dennis smiles.

“ _You_?” Erik stops to stare at him, surprised. “You ever managed to get into trouble, too?” 

“I was young and stupid once, believe it or not. Master – I mean, master Gabriel’s father, he used to love sending me for a freshly cut switch. Oh, I hated that,” he chuckles again, fondly. “I always dragged it out for as long as I could. Sometimes he calmed down in the meantime and forgot about my punishment. Of course, sometimes he only got angrier for taking so long and I’d get it much harder then.”

“Oh. That… doesn’t sound like much fun?” Erik grimaces. There’s a small smile on Dennis’ face, as if he’s remembering some delicious meal he ate, and Erik frowns in confusion.

“Anyway,” Dennis sighs nostalgically and then looks at the branch Erik’s been uselessly butchering with the dull knife. “That’s way too thick. You need something thin and flexible. Like – this one.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Erik grunts.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Dennis smirks and walks back into the house. The young thin branch Dennis pointed out is much easier to cut off and soon, Erik reluctantly drags his feet back to master, placing it on the table next to his half-empty coffee cup.

“Let me see,” master smiles and inspects it, running a hand over the surface. He waves it through the air and Erik winces at the menacing swishing sound it makes. “That’ll do. Go to the bedroom, take off your clothes and kneel by the bed. I’ll be right there.”

His heart beating in his throat, he heads upstairs, clutching the switch in his hand. He throws it on the bed as soon as he gets to the bedroom, refusing to even look at it. It feels good to crumple his clothes in a ball and then throw them angrily across the room, where they land in a heap on the floor. Only after a beat he huffs in defeat and retrieves them, folding them neatly on the chair. He really doesn’t need more things to be punished for, does he?

Once he’s naked, he kneels by the bed, clasping his shaking hands at his lower back. He knows exactly what master’s doing, letting him stew in fearful anticipation, and as much as he wants to hold onto the anger, fear worms its way in, tying his stomach in knots, making his breath come in short gasps.

This is so fucking unfair. He never wanted to be bad or disobedient. Everything he did was only to protect Jerry. And he couldn’t even do that. No, that’s the thing, isn’t it? _He_ can’t protect anyone. He’s a slave and he has no power to even protect himself, let alone anyone else.

The only person who can protect them is master. Only Erik didn’t trust him to do that, did he? It goes against everything Erik has learned in his life. And that’s how he survived, too – by only relying on himself. And now everything’s different – is he to go to the man who holds complete power over him and just throw himself at his mercy and hope for the best?

Erik huffs as he realizes that’s exactly what he should have done. It would have saved everyone a lot of hurt if he only asked master for help from the very beginning.

He’s brought from his thoughts by the sound of steps nearing closer and his breath hitches, his heart doubling in speed. A moment later, master’s shoes come into his line of vision and there’s a gentle hand in his hair.

“Lie down on your stomach in the middle of the bed.”

At least he doesn’t sound angry. In fact, he sounds perfectly at ease and composed, and Erik takes comfort in knowing his punishment won’t be doled out in a fit of rage.

In equally measured movements, master puts cuffs on his wrists and ankles and then ties him spread-eagle to the bed, taking his time to tie the knots and double-check the ropes.

“There,” he sits on the bed next to Erik once he’s done and Erik flinches and then forces himself to relax when master runs a hand up and down his back.

“There are more things you’re not telling me, aren’t there?” master says softly after a while and the question catches Erik completely off guard.

“Um. N-no?”

“That didn’t sound very convincing,” master chuckles. “I’ll tell you what. You will come clean to me now and then we’ll have a fresh start with no more lying and keeping secrets. That sounds good, no?”

Erik’s mind starts to race, desperately trying to collect his scattered thoughts through the haze of fear. Does he dare tell master? He doesn’t want to get anyone else in trouble. Though he can’t really get into much more trouble than he already is, can he?

When the silence drags on, master sighs and takes the switch, tapping his ass warningly. “Alright. Start talking when you want me to stop.”

The next moment, the first stroke lands on his ass, punching all breath out of Erik’s lungs. Oh that fucking _stings_! He doesn’t even have time to fully process the pain, before master’s raining hits in a ruthless speed. Erik whines, unable to stay quiet, but master doesn’t slow down, the insistent _swish-smack_ reverberating loudly through the room.

“Wait, master—ouch—please, stop,” Erik pleads only a few hits in, his entire ass already one fiery throbbing agony. “Alright, fine – _fuck_ – I stole a can of soda from the fridge!” he yells the first thing he can think of, just to make him stop.

Master does stop and Erik sags, panting, blinking away the tears. Already he hates the switch with a burning passion.

Above him, master chuckles.

“Okay. That’s not exactly what I expected but okay. I don’t approve of you drinking that sweet stuff but… I will let you from time to time, if you ask nicely. What else?”

Erik hesitates but when master reaches for the switch again, he caves in. “No, wait, master. I – uh, I got drunk.”

“You got drunk?” master asks, still sounding vaguely amused.

“Yes. When you were gone.”

“What did you drink?”

“Wine.”

“Where did you get it?”

“In—uh. In the kitchen?”

Master snorts softly and Erik curses himself. He always considered himself a decent liar, what hell is wrong with him today.

“Right. So you got drunk, all by yourself?”

“Yes,” he says softly and without warning, master takes the switch, landing five harsh stripes on the back of Erik’s thighs. He tugs at the ropes, muffling his howls of agony into the bed sheet.

“Even now you’re trying to lie to me,” master tuts, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry! Fine, we were all there, but they only had a little. No one else got drunk, just me. Nothing happened, we talked and then I went to bed. I swear. _Fuck_ , that hurts, master.”

“Good,” master says, soothingly rubbing his sore ass and thighs. “I kind of knew about this one, though. I don’t really mind that much if it’s within reason. Next time, though, I’ll be informed in advance. You will get two bottles of wine between the all of you and I will be checking up on you before you go to bed.”

That… actually sounds reasonable, Erik admits grudgingly and feels weirdly relieved. This is actually not that bad. Master doesn’t seem to be getting any angrier, still watching him with patience.

Of course then there’s one more thing he didn’t tell master. Though maybe he already knows. Mistress might have told him, he wouldn’t even be surprised. Maybe this all is a test to see if he confesses. He doesn’t want the switch anywhere near his abused skin again and so quickly speaks up.

“Also when you were gone, mistress, she—um. Made me… service her,” he gets the words out, turning red in the face.

“What?” master asks, frowning and Erik curses internally. So he _didn’t_ know.

“With my mouth,” he admits quietly and master’s face turns hard, showing first hints of anger. He doesn’t respond for a while and Erik watches him warily, fidgeting with the edge of the cuff.

“I didn’t tell you because she threatened to hurt Jerry. I’m sorry,” he adds nervous when the silence drags on.

“Dam it, Hanna!” master swears under his breath but then takes a deep breath in and his face smooths back out.

“Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

“But that’s all, master, you already know the rest. I already told you everything else.”

“Alright. I’m going to believe you,” he smiles, perfectly calm again, and Erik sags in relief. “Your punishment will be twenty-five strokes.”

“What?” he twists around to look at master in alarm. “No, no, no. I thought—Master, please. I can’t.”

“Of course you can,” master says fondly, giving Erik a reassuring smile that does nothing to slow down his heart that is currently trying to beat its way out of Erik’s chest.

“Master, wait. Can I take the cane instead? I’ll do thirty with the cane!”

“Erik,” master huffs, amused. “I don’t know what gives you the impression that you’re in any position to negotiate here,” he says mildly and reaches for the switch again.

Erik grits his teeth, trying to brace himself, but the intensity of the sting still catches him off guard and he groans miserably. Master sets a rhytm of sets of five, giving him a small break in between that’s barely enough to catch his ragged breath.

Quite soon he completely loses track of the number. The whole world is reduced to the stinging pain of the switch falling down on his ass and thighs, over and over again. There’s nothing beyond the throbbing pain. It feels like it will never end and despair settles in Erik’s guts.

“Erik,” master’s voice sounds somewhere from afar. Distantly, he notices there are tears running down his cheek, and he sniffles. “Just five more, okay?”

The words pour in a new wave of energy into his veins. It’s almost over. He can do it.

The first hit lands with a loud smack and he yells into bedsheet, wet and sticky with tears and snot. Nope, he was wrong. He can’t do it. He can’t. He needs it to _stop_.

The pain ebbs a little and he takes a shaky breath in. He’s fine. Weirdly enough, he wants to earn master’s forgiveness, to show he really is sorry and he’s serious about trying harder in the future. He will take his deserved punishment and then everything will be okay again.

His resolution to endure still doesn’t make it any easier to take and the last four hits seem to be the hardest, leaving him sobbing miserably and struggling for breath.

“There, all done,” master murmurs gently and frees Erik’s hands and ankles from the cuffs. Erik stays splayed as he is, feeling completely drained. He can’t stop his teeth from chattering even though sweat is pouring down his temples and his abused ass feeling flaming hot.

Something cold touches his ass and he yelps, flinching violently.

“Easy,” master puts a steady hand in the middle of his back, keeping him down as he massages some sort of cool gel all over his ass and thighs. Wiping his hand carelessly on the bed covers, master leans against the headboard and gathers Erik in his arms, guiding him to cuddle against his chest.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs as he tenderly wipes the tears and snot from Erik’s face with a tissue. He doesn’t even have the energy to feel undignified – he just presses closer, desperate for master’s warmth as he starts to shiver all over.

Master pulls a blanket over them, brushing a strand of hair from Erik’s eyes.

“You’re okay, pet. We’re going to throw the switch away now and hopefully we’ll never have to do this again, right?”

Erik just nods, subdued. He wants to promise he’ll be good but finds he can’t get a word out over the lump in his throat.

He’s still cold, unable to stop shivering, and so he snakes his hand under master’s dress shirt, humming at the heavenly warmth of his body.

They stay like this for a long time, Erik drifting in and out of sleep while master keeps patiently stroking his hair. Eventually he starts to feel a bit like himself again. His ass, too, starts to throb ceaselessly with renewed fervor, the numbing gel clearly wearing out.

“Master?” he speaks up after a while. “Will you… how will you punish Jerry?” he asks, worry churning in his stomach.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with him,” master says thoughtfully and then rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t look so worried, I’m not going to beat him. I could never bring myself to, not after everything he’s been through.”

“Lucky me, huh?”

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” notes dryly and Erik grins.

“M’hungry, master,” he complains and master chuckles, letting him up.

“Let’s get something from the kitchen then.”

Erik hisses as he carefully puts his pants on, the slightest brush of the material making him wince.

“I’m not going to be able to sit down for a week,” he grumbles, looking at master accusingly.

“Good,” master nods. “All the more time for the lesson to sink in, hm?”

The kitchen is empty at this time of the day and master cuts a generous slice of Tracy’s pie cooling on the stove, adding a large dollop of whipped cream on the side.

“I think you deserve a bit of sugar right now,” master smiles as he hands him the plate, cutting a slice for himself, too.

Erik eats the pie standing, leaning against the counter. As he savors each delicious sweet bite, he can’t help but thinking that considering the circumstances, life’s not all that bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling a bit low lately with everything that's going on and writing this story is my go-to comfort and relax. Stay strong everyone!


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I'm back from my little Christmas break. I hope you had a good time and wish you all the best to the new year. I'm starting this year with a smutty and fluffy chapter;-)

A fond smile plays on Gabriel’s lips as he watches Erik asleep next to him. He looks so peaceful, sprawled on his belly over his half of the bed with his arm and leg dangling over the edge. The blanket has been once again kicked to the foot of the bed and so Gabriel gets a view of the boy’s perfect round ass with faded welts from his last punishment.

Unable to help himself, he reaches over and runs his fingers over the marks, first gently and then rakes his nails over them. This finally wakes Erik up; he hisses and throws a sleepy glare over his shoulder that is more adorable than it should be.

“Good morning, pet,” Gabriel grins and Erik only huffs. Still he shuffles closer and cuddles against Gabriel’s chest.

“That’s no way to wake someone up,” he grumbles. “And I was having such a nice dream, too.”

“Aw,” Gabriel coos, raking his fingers through Erik’s messy hair.

“Aren’t you going to work today, master?” Erik asks, his complaints forgotten.

“No, I took a day off. Thought we could maybe do something.”

“Oh?” Erik perks up, raising on his elbow. “Can we go out? The beach, maybe?”

Gabriel knows it’s been too long since Erik left the house – with Jerry being on bedrest still, there have been no trips to the market or anything. Even though by now keeping Jerry confined to his room was probably unnecessary as he seems healed enough. As it is, he’s been starting to look more and more miserable. And not to mention, Gabriel hasn’t punished him yet. And probably won’t; he feels like the boy’s been punished more than enough already.

“Sure,” Gabriel smiles. “We can go to the beach.”

“The public one? Please, master?” Erik pushes, wide awake now, his eyes large and excited.

“No, not the public one,” Gabriel grimaces. “It’s crowded and filthy and it’s no fun for slaves anyway – you’d have to stay in the part of the beach designated for slaves. It’s not that nice, trust me.”

“Oh,” Erik deflates. “But at least they have ice cream stands there,” he pouts and Gabriel chuckles.

“You know what? If you’re good for me today, I’ll bring ice cream, too.”

“I’m always good, master,” Erik quips but he eyes Gabriel warily.

Gabriel only hums as he grabs his supplies, throwing the heavy box on the floor next to the bed, enjoying the way the thud makes Erik flinch.

“Come here,” Gabriel grabs Erik’s waist, pulling him to lie in the middle of the bed. Carelessly he throws all the blankets on the floor to make more space and then reaches for ropes and gets to work.

Erik keeps his eyes on the ceiling, his breathing slow and measured, as Gabriel bends both Erik’s legs at knees and pushes them wide open. He then ties his ankles to his thighs in a simple frogtie. Finally, he wraps two more coils of rope around his knees and attaches them to the bed posts to keep the boy from closing his legs.

For Erik’s hand he uses the leather cuffs. As much as he likes rope, he appreciates the cuffs’ soft lining and not having to worry whether Erik’s going to hurt his wrists if he tugs at them. Clipping the cuffs together, he brings his hands up and then secures them to the headrest.

“Beautiful,” Gabriel murmurs appreciatively, looking over his work. He runs his hand up and down Erik’s chest and he flinches again, though he settles down almost immediately. His dick is already half hard and Gabriel runs a finger along the shaft, teasing.

“How long has it been since you last came?” he asks quietly and Erik frowns, considering.

“Um. A week?”

“Right. I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I? But I’m going to make it up to you today,” Gabriel grins and it earns him another worried look from the boy. He looks like he’s about to protest but before he can get another word out, Gabriel takes a ball gag and quickly works it inside his mouth, despite Erik’s muffled protests.

With Erik completely at his mercy now, Gabriel grabs a few more things and settles comfortably between his splayed legs. Squeezing a blob of lube on his dick, Gabriel gives him a few slow strokes. Immediately he grows fully hard and lets out a low moan. Not really looking to tease him, Gabriel picks up his pace, giving him just what he needs.

“Don’t hold back on my account, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready,” Gabriel encourages him and it’s just a minute later than Erik comes with a muffled groan, painting hot seed all over his belly.

Gabriel lets go of him and he sags, panting. He runs his fingers through the cum and then wipes them against Erik’s chest, eliciting a groan of disgust from the boy.

“Look at that,” Gabriel chuckles. “I wonder how much more you’ve got left in you before you come dry.”

Erik lifts his head, looking at Gabriel with wide alarmed eyes, but Gabriel ignores him. He settles back down, coating his fingers with more lube and then presses them against the tight ring of muscles of Erik’s hole. He takes his time, working one and then two fingers inside slow and methodologically.

Once Gabriel deems him loose enough, he grabs a prostate massager. It’s basically a plug but shaped to press—and vibrate—against the prostate. It’s not overly big but Erik still whines pitifully as it enters him and then nests snuggly against his sensitive spot. His dick, now almost completely soft, gives a little excited jerk and Gabriel grins.

“Oh, you’re definitely ready for round two, huh?”

Another advantage of this little toy is that it comes with a remote. Gabriel clicks the button and it starts to vibrate. It’s the lowest setting but Erik still bucks his hips, moaning. Gabriel goes back to playing with Erik’s dick, rubbing his thumb against the head and stroking him back to hardness.

The sounds that Erik makes are exquisite and go right to Gabriel’s dick that is now straining almost painfully against his pants. He ignores it for now though, wanting to drag out the fun for a bit more.

Just a few minutes later Erik’s hard and panting and Gabriel turns the vibrations all the way up.

“I know you can do it,” Gabriel murmurs, jerking his dick in fast, sure movements and sure enough, Erik arches his back, screaming behind the gag as a bit of semen dribbles out of his dick. As soon as he comes, he starts to thrash, fighting the restrains, and Gabriel takes mercy on him and shuts the vibrations off.

Erik pants desperately, his chest heaving as Gabriel pats his legs soothingly. “I’ll give you a moment.” He turns the vibrator back to the lowest setting and puts the remote in his pocket as he goes to the bathroom.

There he takes his time brushing his teeth and washing his face, fiddling with the remote in the meantime, turning the intensity up and then back down in random patterns. He trims his bears and combs his hair and cuts his nails before he finally can’t stall any longer and returns to the bedroom.

Erik looks a picture of desperation – his dick flushed dark red and hard, while he’s keening softly behind the gag, his muscles coiled and his eyes clenched. Gabriel settles on the bed next to his head, wiping away a stray tear that rolled down Erik’s temple.

“You’re doing great,” Gabriel murmurs, brushing away a strand of sweaty hair from his face. “I know you can come one more time.”

Erik shakes his head but it’s weak and resigned. Adding more lube, Gabriel starts to jerk of his dick again. It must be sensitive by now and Gabriel keeps his touch light. Still, Erik makes a desperate sound, the handcuffs rattling as he tugs at them.

It takes a long time but Gabriel’s nothing if not patient. Eventually, Erik’s ragged breathing picks up another notch. He sobs, pained and desperate, and he goes rigid as single drop appears at the head of Erik’s cock.

“Aw, good boy,” Gabriel praises and right away, he turns the massager off. Reaching behind his head, Gabriel undoes the gag buckle. He pulls the saliva-coated ball away from his mouth and Erik takes a wet gulp of breath.

Before he can even get his breath under control, Gabriel pulls out the toy and buries himself in Erik’s slick hole, moaning with pleasure, ready to come on the spot. The boy’s is completely pliant in his hands as him fucks him, only grunting a little in discomfort as Gabriel’s dick drags over his sensitive prostate.

It only takes a few thrusts for Gabriel to reach his completion and collapse next to Erik, humming with the pleasure still rolling through his body.

“So,” he says when catches his breath and Erik looks at him, glassy-eyed and exhausted. “Shower?”

\--°°--

His hair tied in a bun, still damp from the shower, Erik makes his way downstairs to get himself some breakfast. He’s so sore even walking hurts – his ass is sore, his dick is sore, his muscles are sore… He doesn’t think he wants to come… well, not ever again, those are strong words. But not any time soon, that’s for sure.

Only when he catches the sweat waft of pancakes does he realize how famished he is. Tracy’s standing over the sizzling pan and Erik quickly snatches a fresh pancake from the pile on the plate next to her.

“Hey,” she admonishes but he just grins, stuffing his mouth. “At least help set the table first.”

The table is set and all pancakes ready when Dennis and Jerry join them. Jerry gives Erik a small tired smile.

“Hey,” Erik nudges him with a shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Jerry rolls his eyes. “I’m just tired of being treated like I’m made of glass. I swear I’m going to go crazy if I have to stay in that stupid room ‘resting’ one more day!”

“Don’t worry about that,” master suddenly says from the doorway and Jerry goes a little paler.

“Master – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, you’re right,” master interrupts him. “I think you are ready to return to your duties.”

“Thank you, master,” Jerry nods gratefully, his cheeks turning a little pink.

“Not today, though. We are making a trip to the beach. Finish your breakfast and be ready in an hour by the car. All of you.”

They all exchange surprised looks but nod nonetheless.

“Oh and Tracy, pack some food and drinks in the cooler.”

“And ice cream!” Erik interjects and master smiles at him affectionately.

“Yes, and ice cream.”

Once he’s gone, Jerry gives him a baffled look. “What the hell? How did you do that?”

“Let’s just say I worked very hard to deserve it,” Erik winks, and Jerry turns bright red, squirming uncomfortably.

“Alright, I take my question back,” he mutters and Erik chuckles as he digs back into his breakfast.

It’s almost noon by the time they reach the beach. The sand is pleasantly warm but not scorching, with the sun not being as hot this late in the summer. They pull out the chairs and bring all the towels and bags from the car, setting up their little camp.

“Alright, I’m going for a swim,” master declares once everything is set up and Erik’s good moods plummets as he looks at the roaring ocean. Not only does he not have a swimsuit and does not want to parade his whipped ass in front of the others, he still has zero interest in going anywhere near those waves.

“You don’t have to go in the water,” master says mildly. “Eat your ice cream before it melts.” He quickly slips out of his clothes, clearly unperturbed with his nakedness as he strolls towards the water.

“I don’t know about you,” Tracy says and Erik forces himself to look away from master’s ass. “But I’m more than happy to stay right here the whole day. Finally some time to finish my book,” she pulls a thick paperback from the bag with some half-naked muscled man on the cover.

Erik reaches into the cooler and takes out the ice cream popsicles, handing them out to everyone. Dennis settles in the chair next to Erik, giving him a small smile, just a tug of lips really, but it strangely warms Erik on the inside.

“You’re really good for him, you know that?”

“I am?” Erik blinks, surprised, his face turning hot.

“Oh yeah. In all the time I have lived in that house, he has never taken us out like this. After master – after his master’s parents died, all he did was work. Work, work, work. Even once the company got big and successful enough to run without his constant supervision, he would spend 16 hours a day in the office. It’s nice to see him relax.”

“Oh,” Erik says, feeling a misplaced pride swell in his chest, and he suddenly doesn’t know what to say. It seems Dennis doesn’t expect an answer, though, as he leans back with a satisfied sigh and takes a bite of his ice cream.

Eventually, Dennis joins master in the water. Erik watches them swim away, slightly worried, but it looks like they’re both pretty good swimmers. He and Jerry roll up their pants and stay at the shore, looking for pretty stones and shells, entertaining themselves by digging the deepest hole in the sand they can manage.

As much as Erik wishes the day would never end, way too soon the sun starts to dip low towards the horizon and they are forced to pack their things, shaking the sand off the towels and their clothes. Erik has a whole bag worth of seashells and one dried starfish that he loads into the trunk of the car.

“What?” he shrugs when master gives his collection an amused look. “I’m going to make some art with them.”

“Alright,” master agrees easy. “I hope you washed them, I don’t want any sand in the car.”

“I did, master,” Erik reassures him quickly.

In the car, he goes boneless. His whole body grows heavy with exhaustion and his nose feels hot and burned. The bouncing up and down on the small dirt road doesn’t help either and soon his eyes start to droop.

“Thank you for the trip, master,” he remembers to say before he allows himself to doze off, resting his head on Jerry’s shoulder.


	33. Chapter 33

Gabriel’s getting ready to go to work, rummaging through the drawers in his office, looking for that stupid contract, when there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Yeah?” he calls distractedly and a moment later, Jerry enters, closing the door soundlessly behind him.

“You wanted to see me, master?” he says in the timid voice of his and Gabriel finally stops his searching. Oh, he did ask for him to come find him, didn’t he? He almost forgot. The morning’s been hectic; an important client they’ve been negotiating with for month unexpectedly decided to come for a visit today, causing a bit of a panic in the company.

He looks up from the chaotic pile of papers. The boy looks nervous, breathing quickly and fidgeting with his sleeves, and Gabriel wonders if he’s ever _not_ going be terrified in Gabriel’s presence.

“Right,” he sighs, not wanting to drag this on “I couldn’t help but notice – it’s been two weeks since I told you to return to your duties, and you haven’t left the house once since.”

The boy swallows nervously, shifting on his feet. “I-I apologize, master. Tracy and Dennis have been taking care of the shopping. I have been helping more around the house, I swear,” he quickly adds, his eyes widening with fear. “I haven’t been slacking off, or anything!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Gabriel says gently. He doesn’t mind giving Jerry time to rest and heal; what he’s worried about is that after everything that happened, the boy might be afraid to leave the safety of the house. But it won’t get any easier, the longer he lets him hide inside and pretend it’s not an issue. And not to mention, Erik loved their trips to the market or the shops. Gabriel doesn’t want Erik all cooped up and miserable.

“I’m sorry, master,” Jerry says again, and Gabriel sighs.

“I don’t want you to apologize, just explain. Are you not feeling well enough? Or are you afraid to go?”

Gabriel leans against the table, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits, but after a minute, it becomes obvious no answer is forthcoming from Jerry, who just looks more nervous and worked up by the second.

“Alright, I’ll tell you what,” Gabriel sighs finally. “There’s a market in town today. I want you to go there, with Erik. I’m craving fresh fish for dinner tonight. Actually, get enough for all of you, we’re all having fish for dinner.”

“Yes, master,” Jerry nods miserably. Of course he has not choice but to obey – Gabriel is perfectly aware he would never go against a direct order like this, but he doesn’t look too happy about it.

“Well, then. I’ll see you in the evening,” he dismisses him, going back to looking for the damn document.

Only Jerry doesn’t leave right away, as he expected him to, but once again shifts nervously, clearly gathering the courage to say something.

“What is it?” Gabriel frowns, genuinely confused. After a beat of hesitation, Jerry slumps dejectedly.

“Nothing, master. I’m sorry – have a good day, master,” he turns around, about make a quick retreat out of the office.

“Come back here,” Gabriel snaps and when the boy reluctantly drags his feet back to the where he was, Gabriel comes closer, giving him a scrutinizing look.

“What is it?” he repeats the question sternly. He has absolutely zero patience to play guessing games with the boy today.

It takes a moment for Jerry to get his voice to work. “I was just wondering if—well, I thought the reason you called for me… I mean, you haven’t punished me yet,” he stammers and finally it clicks.

To be honest, it completely slipped his mind. He made his decision not to punish the boy some time back and considered the matter settled. Only now does he realize he probably should have told him about it, too.

“I’m not going to punish you,” he says but Jerry doesn’t look reassured. If anything, he looks even more worried now.

“I mean it. I don’t want to hurt you more than you already have been. Or lock you inside. Or make you miserable. I just want you to promise to be honest with me and never ever keep things like this from me again.”

“I won’t, master,” Jerry shakes his fervently and Gabriel can’t help but smile fondly at him.

“Good. Now go, you don’t want to be late, you know how fast the best fish are sold out.”

“Yes, master. Thank you,” Jerry smiles gratefully and then all but runs from the office.

\--°°--

Erik’s leaning against the wall by the greenhouse, doodling, while he’s waiting for Jerry to join him. He said he’d come to the garden after he cleans up in the kitchen. He’s taking suspiciously long, though, and Erik wonders what the hold-up is.

There’s a rustling sound to his right. Erik turns, fully expecting to see a bird, and then drops his pencil in surprise when he sees a tiny cat just a few feet from him.

“Well, hello there,” Erik smiles and the cat lets out a high-pitched, unhappy mewl. When he holds his hand out, it comes closer, sniffing eagerly at his fingers.

“Sorry, no food,” Erik says apologetically. The cat arches its back and lets Erik pet its matted black coat. It looks fluffy but under the all the fur, Erik can clearly feel every bone and rib.

“Aw, you must be hungry, wait here, I’ll bring you something!” He jumps to his feet and bolts back inside and straight to the kitchen. Tracy’s just putting away the last leftovers after breakfast and gives him a surprised look.

“Can I get something to eat?” he asks, breathless. “There’s a cat in the garden and—”

“Erik, no,” Tracy stops him with a shake of her head. “Don’t feed the stray cats. Please.”

“But—”

“There’s so many of them and you’ll never get rid of them if you start feeding them! And master absolutely hates cats, he’s going to be pissed if he sees you feeding one of the stray ones.”

“He does?” Erik slumps.

“It’s not that bad,” Tracy comforts him. “There’s a lot of mice around here, it’s not like they don’t have anything to eat.”

“Right,” Erik mutters, unconvinced. Still, he has no option than to go back empty handed. The cat is nowhere to be seen, anyway, even though he tries calling for it.

“Erik!” Jerry comes out of the house in fast, hurried strides. His eyes are slightly too wide and he’s a bit breathless by the time he reaches Erik.

“Are you alright?”

“Sure,” Jerry shrugs, running his hand through his hair anxiously.

“There was a cat in the garden!” Erik says excitedly.

“Aw. Master hates cats,” Jerry grimaces.

“So I’ve heard,” Erik snorts, casting a last longing look to the spot he saw it last. “So, what’s up?”

“We’re going to the market.”

“We are?” Erik perks up, cat forgotten. “But that’s great!”

“Yeah,” Jerry says softly, and it doesn’t sound the least bit convincing. He’s nibbling at his nail nervously, practically vibrating with nerves.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… It’s stupid. I’m just nervous. What if something happens? What if… I get robbed. Or… beaten. Or stolen? It feels like so long since I last left the house. I have no idea how I did it. It’s so dangerous out there. Here—here it’s safe. Sorry, I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Erik resolutely disagrees. His heart aches for Jerry; he just doesn’t want to get hurt again and no wonder. But he can’t stay inside for the rest of his life either. And of course, there are always dangers lurking for slaves who are outside without the protection of his master, nothing is ever _completely_ safe, but this is a market—it’s not like they’re about to roam small alleys in the middle of the night.

“Could you—could you go alone and tell master I went with you?” he turns pleading eyes at Erik.

“Jerry, no,” Erik shakes head. “Come here.”

Erik hugs him close, feeling the tiny tremors wrecking his body. “Nothing’s going to happen, I promise. I’ll be there with you. And you have your phone, right? Plus, all the sellers there know you, no one would dare bother us. It’ll be quick – get in, buy stuff and get out. I’m sure we’ll be back in an hour.”

That finally seems to calm Jerry, and he nods, determined. He’s still tense the entire ride, gripping the steering wheel with in a white-knuckled hold and sitting ramrod straight. Erik keeps a steady flow of easy chatter, not minding the distracted, one-word replies from Jerry.

The market is busy, as expected, and Jerry keeps a tight grip on Erik’s arm as they weave their way through the crowds. He heads directly to the fish stall.

“Which one do you want?” Jerry asks quietly once they’re there. “Master said I’m to get enough for all of us.”

“Seriously?” Erik feels his eyes widen. Fresh fish is expensive. Like ridiculously expensive. Sure, he’s tasted it a few times from master’s plate but it’s not something the slaves were given to eat. Sometimes Tracy made these deep-frozen fillets and Erik still thought they fucking delicious.

A few minutes later, they’re back in the car and finally, some of the tension seems to leave Jerry and he gives Erik the first genuine smile.

“See? Nothing bad happened.”

“Thank you,” Jerry says softly as they head back home.

Later in the evening, Erik’s hovering by the stove, watching Tracy skillfully break down the fish. It’s fascinating to watch and it makes his stomach rumble.

“Should we wait for master to come home?” he asks. He fucking hopes not, because he’s hungry and it’s past their usual meal time, anyway.

“No,” Tracy shakes her head. “I’ll put one fillet aside and make it fresh when he comes home.”

The fillet is the best thing Erik’s had in months. They eat it together, chatting and joking the entire time. Erik still hasn’t gotten used to how nice it feels to have the whole mansion for themselves, without mistress here. Sure, the cameras are still watching them relentlessly every minute of the day, but it’s not like they’re doing anything forbidden.

Afterwards, he helps with the dishes, which he normally doesn’t get to do, always by master’s side once he’s back home. Making sure no one is looking, he quickly wraps the fish skin he deliberately left on his plate into a napkin and puts it in his pocket.

While everyone else is busy, he sneaks out to the garden and leaves the food by the bush where he last saw the cat. If it’s still there by the morning, he’s going to have to clean it away before someone else –like Jerry or master—finds it.

Over two hours after all dishes have been cleaned and put away, master’s still not home and Erik starts to feel slight worry growing in his stomach. He gives up the pretense of watching a movie and closes the laptop – he hasn’t been paying any attention to it anyway, only straining his ears for the sound of master’s car.

He goes back downstairs and finds Dennis.

“Did master tell you when he’s coming back?”

“No,” Dennis shakes his head. “I wrote him a text a while back but he hasn’t answered. I’m sure he’ll be back soon, though.”

Erik nods, the unease only building. It doesn’t help that Dennis looks more worried than he’s ever seen him, though he does his best not to let it show.

Another hour later, they’re all sitting back at the kitchen table but this time, no one feels like talking.

“Maybe call him?” Erik suggests. “I’ll do it if you don’t want to get in trouble.” He knows master doesn’t like to be bothered unless it’s an emergency but Erik would gladly take a punishment over this uncertainty and low-grade panic that starts to form in his head.

“It’s fine, I’ll do it.”

They all hold their breaths while Dennis dials the number and waits for the ringing tone. Only it never comes, only a robotic message that the number is unavailable. Erik’s stomach sinks as he watches Dennis try two more times with the same result.

Next to him, Jerry hunches on himself and Erik hears his breath hitch. He takes hold his hand, cold and clammy, under the table and brings it to his lap, rubbing soothingly.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Tracy tries to say cheerfully, not sounding very convincing, and Erik just nods miserably, even as fear turns his stomach to ice.

By the time the clock hits midnight, they’re all kind of exhausted, though of course nobody feels like sleeping or even leaving the kitchen. Jerry is unnaturally still by his side and it looks like he’s doing his best to keep from freaking out.

“Okay,” Erik finally breaks the heavy silence. “Can we be realistic here? This is not normal. Dennis, what—what’s gonna happen if master’s… dead?” Erik looks to the older slave. As shitty as it is, Erik feels like he’ll do better if he knows his options here.

“If he’s dead,” Dennis says in a clipped tone. “Then—after the inheritance is settled, which takes months, we’ll go to mistress.”

Jerry whimpers softly and Erik can’t help but shudder. Now that is a fucking terrifying thought. He has no doubt the first thing mistress would do is get rid of Jerry. And Dennis could say goodbye to his freedom and the little cottage in the woods. Tracy she would probably keep and Erik? She’d probably keep him too, just to make his life miserable.

“What if he’s just in a hospital somewhere?” Erik presses on, pushing the worst-case scenario to the back of his mind for later. “Can you call them?”

“There’s no point,” Dennis snorts. “No one’s going to talk to me or tell me anything.”

“But they’d tell mistress, right?”

“Right. But—maybe let’s not get her involved just yet. I don’t even have her number. We would have to call the slave protection services and without master in the house, they’d put us in a holding facility. Let’s wait a day or two, okay?”

It makes sense and Erik is grateful for Dennis for sounding so collected and in charge of the situation even though he’s probably stressed as hell right now too. Damn, was it like that when the old master died? Did he just not come back one day or did they learn right away?

There’s nothing left to do than wait. They move to the living room and put on some dumb game show with the sound barely on, anything just to keep their minds off. It doesn’t help much but gives them a tiny semblance of normalcy, as if their lives might not fall apart at any moment.

At what point do they admit defeat and go to bed? It’s almost three o’clock now. Should they stay up all night? What good will it do if master’s not coming back?

Suddenly, Dennis sits up and quickly mutes the TV. Erik hears it too—the sound of a car pulling in. They all freeze and Erik strains his ears, trying to listen over the pounding in his ears. Is it master or is it the police about to take them away?

A moment later, they hear the jingle of keys and the door opening and Erik groans in relief.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he breathes out, the wave of relief so strong it makes him nauseous. Immediately they all hurry towards the main door and come just in time to see master stagger in. The smell of alcohol is unmistakable and when master smiles at him, completely oblivious, his eyes glassy, Erik feels like he might explode with anger.

“Are you fucking serious?” Erik yells and the way master’s smile slips away and he slowly blinks in surprise would be hilarious if Erik wasn’t ready to strangle him.

“Erik, please don’t,” Jerry whispers pleadingly and tugs at his arm. Erik shakes him off easily and takes a step forward.

“Do you have _any idea_ how fucking worried I was? I thought you were dead! Would it kill you to send one stupid text?”

There’s a sharp bark of laughter from behind master and only now does Erik see the other man. He shuts his mouth with a click and his heart skips a beat with he recognizes Zach’s master.

Oh, fuck.

“Oh, Gabe, I didn’t know you were whipped by your _slave_ ,” the man sneers joyfully, clearly drunk as well. Erik hangs his head submissively and takes a step back, biting his lip. This is just his luck, isn’t it?

To his surprise, master chuckles, too. “At least he cares whether I live or not,” he quips back.

“Sure. You tell yourself that,” he scoffs derisively.

Master doesn’t seem too bothered. He kicks his shoes haphazardly in the corner while leaning against the wall.

“What are you all standing here for? Get back to bed, all of you!” he shoos them away and they scramble over each other to get out of the way.

“What in the world, Erik?” Dennis shakes his head, exasperated, once they’re deep in the house.

“What? I just said what we’re all thinking,” he shrugs, even though he’s still shaking. He can’t believe he’s gotten off this easy; he was sure master’s going to beat the shit out of him just to prove himself in front of his friend.

“He totally deserved that, though” Tracy chuckles quietly.

Jerry’s still pale and quiet and Erik gives him a quick hug, ruffling his hair.

“Go to bed. And hope master won’t remember that in the morning,” Dennis frowns, but it lacks heat.

They all head downstairs while he alone makes his way up to master’s bedroom. As soon as he hits the bed, Erik groans, his exhaustion catching up. Adrenaline and no small deal of fear are still thrumming under his skin and it takes a moment to settle down and fall asleep.

He wakes up when the bed dips next to him. The bedsheets rustle and then master presses close to him, humming. His breath smells of mint and toothpaste, though there’s still a faint smell of alcohol radiating from him.

Slowly reaching down, he takes hold of Erik’s flaccid cock. Erik goes rigid; this is not exactly what he expected and he gives master a weary look. Master ignores him though, a lopsided smile on his face. He keeps playing with Erik, slowly and unhurriedly, and eventually Erik can’t help but grow hard under his ministrations.

He lets out a breath, allowing himself to relax. Master’s touch remains light and teasing and Erik subtly thrusts his hips up, asking for more. Suddenly he’s almost desperate to come, to release all the stress and anxiety of this long evening.

Master keeps his pace maddeningly slow but eventually, Erik starts to get close, his breath quickening up. That’s when master’s hand dips lower, taking his testicles in a vice grip.

“Master!” Erik yelps, his eyes flying open in fear. He tries to move away but master grabs his hair with his other hand, keeping him in place.

“As touching as your concern for my well-being is…,” he says, crushing his balls even harder and Erik would double over in pain if master wasn’t keeping him pinned down. “…I do not appreciate you yelling at me in front of my friends.”

“I’m sorry, master!” he pants desperately. “Oh god, please!”

“Hm,” master hums. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

Then, fucking finally, he lets go of him and Erik curls into a ball, cradling his sore balls. “Good night, sweetheart,” master kisses the top of his head gently and then turns his back to him, starting to snore softly almost immediately.

Erik blinks into the darkness, half-aroused and half-terrified, and waits for his heart to slow down so that he can go back to sleep, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updates have been kinda slow lately, sorry! Someone needs to lock me out youtube and reddit where I spend hours procrastinating!


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ItStartedWithPotter wrote a sweet little snippet from this universe that takes place 20 years after Erik's been freed. It's adorable, go read it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28898805)!

Gabriel wakes to the insistent shrill of the alarm clock and fumbles with his phone for a while, drowsy and uncoordinated as he is, before he finally gets it to shut down. It’s way too early for how late he got to bed last night and as much as he’d love to go back to sleep, he knows has things to take care of this morning.

Sagging back down on the bed, he groans as even the slightest movement makes his head pound and his stomach swim. Why the hell did he have the last shot of whiskey yesterday? For some reason, it seemed like a good idea back then.

Last night, they went out to celebrate the deal they successfully managed to close with their guest. Most of the other guys left after a few beers but Tony insisted Gabriel comes check out this new bar they opened downtown. They’ve had a couple of shots and it was fine. Well, maybe more than a couple, Gabriel doesn’t really remember.

All he knows is that they got into an argument about which whiskey is the best, which ended with both of them taking a taxi to Gabriel’s home to taste the yet unopened bottle of 40-year-old rare collection whiskey that he got from one client or another. It was worth a couple grand and they both were too drunk to even appreciate its taste.

So yeah, not a very good idea.

After laying still for a moment, his stomach settles and he dares open his eyes, only to find Erik on the other side of the bed giving him an icy stare.

“Erik,” he hums, opening his arms, but the boy stays still. With a sigh, he shuffles closer, laying his head on Erik’s chest. Suddenly he remembers fragments of the boy yelling at him and he groans. Right, so that happened. It didn’t even occur to him that they would be this worried. Plus, his phone died some time during the evening and he completely forgot about it.

Erik doesn’t push him away but it’s a close thing. Gabriel sighs; he’s too old for this. Not only does his mouth feel like the bottom of a bird cage, but his whole body hurts, too. All he wants now is a bit of cuddles from Erik and all he gets instead is the cold shoulder.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” he says sheepishly and it seems to do the trick. With a long-suffering sigh, Erik finally relaxes and his hands come up to gently play with Gabriel’s short hair.

“I was just really worried, you know?”

“I know,” Gabriel mutters tiredly.

“Do you even realize what’s going to happen to us if you die? We’d go mistress! I don’t wanna go to mistress. _Nobody_ wants to go to mistress!”

That gives Gabriel pause. He didn’t really think about it before but it’s true. And he doesn’t like that idea either. She’d probably just get rid of them. Sure, he could put it in his will that she’s not allowed to sell them if she wants to keep the house but would that make it much better?

No, that won’t do. He doesn’t want her anywhere near his slaves, to be honest. Come to think of it, there’s probably only one person in the world he’d trust with this – Mark. He’s known him for all his life, they’ve been thick as thieves all of high school and during their university years. And even though they only see each other a couple of times a year now, he _knows_ he’d treat his slaves with all the care they deserve.

Though, he can’t imagine Mark being too happy if he dumped four slaves on him like that – he’s been travelling all over the world for years and it doesn’t look like he’s about to settle any time soon. He could create a fund for them, though, a nice little sum that set them up for life and then, eventually, get them their freedom.

Yeah, that could work. Mark wouldn’t have to do much other than be the master on the papers. He wonders what Mark’s up to now. He hasn’t heard from him since he dumped Erik at his house out of the blue. Sure, it isn’t uncommon for his to drop off the grid for months but he did promise he’d stop by in September, which is only a few days away.

Erik’s watching him nervously and he realizes he’s been quiet for a long time. “Right. Can’t say I blame you for not wanting to go my sister,” Gabriel huffs and then makes himself get up with a groan. “I will talk to my lawyer today and figure some better solution for all of you, alright?”

Erik blinks at him, surprised. “Oh. Yes, okay. Thank you, master. And—sorry for yesterday, for yelling at you. Again,” he adds, suddenly weary.

“Well,” Gabriel snorts. “I advise you not to do that again.”

“I’ll try,” Erik smiles and Gabriel shakes his head fondly. Oh, he’ll try for a while alright before he forgets himself again. Gabriel guesses he can’t complain too much, though, not with how much fun it is to punish the boy, anyway.

“Alright, get up. We’re taking a shower and then we’ll go eat breakfast together.”

The shower does wonders in making Gabriel feel slightly more human again. Erik must be pretty tired too but he doesn’t show it too much. Must be because he’s still young. And also not hungover. Or maybe it’s just the concealer he saw him put under his eyes in the bathroom.

“Is he still here?” Erik asks nervously as they’re about to leave the bedroom and Gabriel feels a flare of annoyance.

“Yes and that’s Mr. Mitchel to you!” he snaps and turns around, grabbing Erik’s face to look him in the eyes. “And I expect you on your best behavior. I think you’ve done quite enough damage to my image yesterday, don’t you?”

“Yes, master,” Erik grits out and then rubs his cheek when Gabriel lets go of him. “I can behave, you know? I just didn’t see him there last night,” he mutters under his breath.

To his credit, once they’re outside the bedroom, he does fall a step behind Gabriel, head down and hands clasped behind his back, and Gabriel only hopes he’ll keep it up as they head to the dining room.

\--°°--

Zach’s master— _Mr. Mitchel_ to him, apparently—is already sitting at the table by the time they make it to the dining room with a plate of breakfast in front of him. Master takes a seat perpendicular to him, which puts Erik right between these two as he sinks to his knees on his usual spot by master’s right hand.

It only takes a quick glance around to see that Zach’s not in the room. Yesterday he didn’t even check if he came too, as stressed as he was, but no, it seems the poor guy was left at home, most likely still worrying about when his master is coming back.

“Well, he doesn’t look so feisty now, does he?” Mr. Mitchel remarks and Erik does his best to keep his head down.

“Oh well,” master sighs and he reaches down to ruffle Erik’s hair affectionately. “What can I say? Can’t really blame him for worrying about me.”

“You’re just too soft on him. You might think it’s cute but he’ll get out of control you don’t put your foot down. I’ll be happy to punish him for you if you want.”

Before Erik can get himself worked up, master squeezes the back of his neck in what is clearly a reassuring gesture, and he chuckles.

“Oh, I’m sure you would but I think I can handle him just fine.”

Mr. Mitchel just hums and it seems Erik’s forgotten for now. They start talking about some new client, discussing the details of the project, and Erik tunes out. He’s focusing on keeping as still as possible so as not to draw any more attention to himself.

“So you’re sure you can take him in?” Mr. Mitchel says and that makes Erik perk up.

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” master waves his hand.

“Thanks, I’d hate to drag him with me, I’ll be pretty busy on the project. And I don’t want to leave him at the center, that place’s nasty.”

“No, I wouldn’t trust them with my boy, either.”

“Right? He’s pretty valuable, too, I don’t want him damaged. But you shouldn’t have any problems with him, Zach’s quite low-maintenance.”

So they _are_ talking about Zach! Erik feels his heart pick up and he strains his ears. Master’s hand is back in his hair, giving him a warning tug, and only then does he realize he very nearly stared at Mr. Mitchel, his curiosity making him forget himself. He quickly bows his head again, cursing himself.

“Of course you are very welcome to use him,” he continues. “No permanent damage is all I ask for, but other than that… put him to use. I don’t want him to get too soft in the two months.”

“Sure,” master scoffs and Erik can practically hear him roll his eyes. “I think we’ll manage.”

“Of course. Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

Dennis comes to take away the dishes and master gets up from the table, stretching.

“Dennis, we’ll be leaving in fifteen minutes. We left our cars downtown so you’ll drive us.”

“Of course, master,” Dennis replies easily, as calm and collected as ever, despite the fact that couldn’t have slept more than a few of hours either.

Soon after that master and his friend leave and Erik can finally go to kitchen to get himself something to eat, too.

“Hey,” Jerry peeks inside as soon as he sits down with a simple sandwich he quickly threw together. “Are you alright?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the ‘p’.

“Was he mad?”

“A tiny bit, yeah,” Erik grins, doing his best not to think back to what happened in the night.

“Oh,” Jerry says, hovering by the door uncertainly.

“Hey, do you wanna hear a gossip?”

“What gossip?”

It’s Tracy – she pushes past Jerry into the kitchen with a yawn, now looking at Erik curiously.

“Zach’s going to stay here – I’ve heard master talk about it.”

“Oh, he is?” Tracy’s tired face lights up. “For how long? When is he coming? Today? I gotta make him the cheesecake he likes!”

“I don’t actually know when – but they said he’d stay about two months, I think?” Erik shrugs.

“Well, I’m gonna make it anyway, just in case,” Tracy decides and starts getting out ingredients out of the fridge.

Jerry’s still hovering nearby and he looks half-asleep on his feet.

“Did you get _any_ sleep last night?” Erik asks him, frowning with concern.

“Not really, no. I couldn’t fall asleep, after everything.”

“Go take a nap,” Erik nudges him out of the kitchen.

“I can’t,” he groans. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

Clearly there’s no arguing with him. He drags himself tiredly out of the room and Erik goes back to his breakfast. He’s exhausted too, and it’s master’s fault. Everyone here should be allowed take a nap today, to be honest.

After breakfast, Erik goes into the garden. He takes a slow stroll, making it look like he’s just stretching his legs, while in reality he’s looking for the fish leftovers he left there yesterday. Everything is gone and Erik smiles, hoping it was the cat that ate it and not rats for example.

Next he heads to the greenhouse, looking for Jerry. Strangely, he’s not there or anywhere else in the garden and Erik’s about to give up and go inside when he notices a pair of shoes peeking from behind the far wall of the greenhouse.

“Oh my goodness,” Erik chuckles when he quietly walks around and sees Jerry curled on the ground behind the greenhouse, soundly asleep. He watches him for a bit, contemplating waking him up to tell him to move to his bed. Though he probably wouldn’t go. And does look quite comfy there, even though the morning’s a bit chilly and the grass is still damp with dew and he’s only wearing a thin t-shirt. But he just looks so peaceful and Erik can’t bring himself to disturb him.

Instead he returns to the kitchen and when he finds it empty, the cheesecake already sitting in the oven, he quickly fills a small bowl with water and grabs a few slices of ham. Careful not to slosh the water everywhere, he carries it to the garden, hiding both the bowl and the ham behind a bush in the corner of the garden, hoping the cat will find its way there.

For a moment he contemplates going back to the bedroom and back to sleep but it’s so much nicer here outside. He lays down on the garden swing, kicking his feet up, and watches the white fluffy clouds move across the sky, thinking about Zach.

It’s not that he dislikes the guy. Zach’s alright. But he is a little nervous about what him being here will mean for Erik. What he will be asked to _do_ with him. Erik’s only consolation is that at least Zach’s _master_ won’t be here – that guy is fucking terrifying and he seems to bring out the worst in master. But without him to impress, Erik’s reasonably sure master won’t do anything too bad… Right?

Will he fuck Zach? Most likely. Fuck, what if he _likes_ it? What if he likes _him?_

The thought is like a bucket of ice and suddenly, Erik’s not very sleepy anymore. Of course he’s going to like Zach – he is so much better trained than Erik. Master can whip him and he’ll barely flinch. He doesn’t freak out or panic like Erik does. Erik knows master likes these kinds of things, he saw the way he looked at him last time. With Zach, he won’t have to hold back like he does with Erik.

But master always tells Erik he’s pretty so that has to count for something, right? He’s small and slender, with narrow waist and skinny limbs, whereas Zach is solid muscles, sculptured into perfection without being _too_ large. He looks like some fucking underwear model or a Greek god, with his perfect jawline and all. What if this is exactly what master goes for? It’s not like he chose Erik, either.

After the two months, master might want to buy him – he does have the money for it. It’s fine, Erik tells himself. So what if he’s replaced. He’ll still get to stay here, right? See if he cares – it’s not like he’s jealous or anything.

It doesn’t help and Erik feels increasingly anxious. Suddenly he’s desperate for even the slightest reassurance from master. He needs him to promise that he’ll always keep him, that he’ll never tire of him and send him away just because he found himself a new plaything.

It’s stupid and Erik hates himself for being this needy. But as fucked up as it is, master was the first and only person in Erik’s life that ever seemed to give a shit about him. His father certainly didn’t care. Or anyone in his whole little home village – all of them couldn’t care less when his addicted father sold him before it was even legal to do so. Master Renard certainly didn’t care either, Erik was only a tool for him to make money.

So no, he doesn’t want to lose this. He _can’t_ lose this.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm down. He’s overreacting. It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine.

The gentle rocking of the swing and the pleasant breeze do lull him to sleep eventually. He wakes up with a jerk when the door bangs shut and blinks blearily at master as he approaches the swing. He squints his eyes against the sun and looks around the garden but it seems master’s alone.

“Is Zach here already?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.

“No, he’s coming next week. And it’s not polite to listen in to the conversation of your betters,” he smacks the back of Erik’s head lightly and Erik wants to roll his eyes. If he doesn’t want Erik to listen in, maybe he shouldn’t have dragged him along just to have him kneel on the floor to show off.

“Sorry, master,” Erik mutters anyway, not wanting to test master’s clearly short temper when he’s hungover.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed, I’m exhausted.”

Erik doesn’t protest, leaning against master’s side as they walk inside. They’re almost by the door when master glances back and comes to a halt, his eyes trained on the greenhouse. Before Erik has a chance to even try pleading with him to let Jerry sleep, he walks off with an annoyed huff, heading inevitably behind the greenhouse.

“Wake up!” he barks, nudging Jerry with a tip of his shoe. Jerry springs up immediately, looking around himself in confusion and alarm. “Are you seriously sleeping here on the ground?”

“I—I’m sorry, master, I d-didn’t mean to, I—” he stammers, folding himself on his knees.

Erik watches them from by the door, feeling sorry for him. He must have been really deep asleep, too, clearly struggling to get his bearings now. Erik wishes he did wake him up earlier, if only because he’d go much more gently about it.

“Do you wanna get sick? You know how cold the ground is in the morning? Get back to bed, _now!”_

“Yes, master,” Jerry says softly and quickly hurries out of master’s sight, only giving Erik a bewildered look as he passes him on his way inside.

Erik bites his lip to keep quiet as master joins him again. He grunts, rubbing his temples, clearly trying to soothe his headache. Serves him right, Erik scoffs to himself, but then puts on a smile as he lays a hand on master’s arm.

“Let’s go to bed, master,” he says softly and master only grunts in reply and follows Erik inside.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach arrives

Zach is dumped unceremoniously at the mansion a week days later. His master drops him off by the door and drives off without even getting out of the car. Erik’s watching from the bedroom window and sees him stand there, looking uncharacteristically lost, with a duffle bag over his shoulder, dressed in simple cotton sweatpants and a t-shirt.

When he doesn’t move to ring the bell or knock, only watches the house with barely hidden trepidation, Erik takes mercy on him and jogs down the stairs to let him in.

As soon as he opens the door, Zach’s whole posture changes and he gives Erik an easy smile.

“Erik, good to see you again,” he greets him as he takes a step inside. He looks as handsome as ever and it seems to take Erik off-guard, again. Every time he doesn’t see him for a while, he seems to forget how fucking _perfect_ his face looks. And his dark hair has grown out a bit, too, sticking in all directions, and looks cuter than it has any right to.

Dennis must have heard Zach’s voice because he appears in the hallway before Erik has a chance to say anything.

“Hello, Zach, welcome. Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

Zach follows Dennis and Erik tags along, having nothing better to do anyway. Plus, he’s curious as to where Zach’s actually going to sleep, given there are no more free rooms in the slaves’ quarters.

“The basement?” Zach huffs as Dennis opens the door, revealing the stairs leading down into darkness. “Figures.”

“It’s not that bad,” Dennis says softly and flicks on the light. As they walk down the stairs, Zach lets out a low whistle and Erik remembers his reaction when he first got here. It’s not exactly what one would expect.

“Nice,” Zach says, hoisting his bag back on the shoulder. It looks kinda heavy and Erik wonders what else besides clothes he brought. “You lucky bastards,” he chuckles. “No gym, though, huh?”

“No,” Erik shakes his head, amused.

“Oh, well, I’ll figure something out. I could lift _you_ , you don’t look much heavier than my weights.”

“Don’t you dare,” Erik gives him a horrified look and Zach just laughs.

It’s when Dennis stops by Jerry’s room and knocks on the door that it clicks for Erik. Of course, there is a spare bed in that room, it makes sense. Somehow, though, the idea of Zach sharing a room with Jerry makes him weirdly uneasy.

“This is your bed,” Dennis points to the empty bed.

“Cool,” Zach says flatly, clearly unimpressed, which is weird, considering at his home he sleeps on a fucking _mat._

“Zach, you remember Jerry, right?” Dennis waves his hand towards Jerry, who’s sitting on his bed, hunched and looking painfully uncomfortable at having a stranger in his room.

“I don’t think we met, actually,” Zach grins at Jerry, who shrinks into himself even more.

“Well I’m sure you’ll get along fine. When you’re ready, come upstairs to the kitchen to get some breakfast. Jerry, come with me.”

Jerry gets up and slinks past Zach, giving him one last weary look before he follows Dennis out of the room. Once they’re alone, Zach throws his bag on the floor, looking around himself.

“This is kinda depressing, isn’t it?” he huffs as he opens his bag and grabs a fistful of crumpled clothes, throwing them carelessly into the small closet on his side of the room.

“What?” Erik frowns, confused. When he first saw the room here, he thought it was fucking amazing.

“It’s like a fucking tomb here.”

Oh. Right. Zach’s used to having a huge-ass window with a view overlooking the whole city skyline. Somehow it irks Erik, though, and he feels an urge to defend his master’s home.

“At least here you have your own space away from master,” he shrugs, stopping himself from pointing out that at least they have a _bed_ to sleep on. That would be shitty.

“Right,” Zach drawls out, looking pointedly towards the corner of the room, where a small camera is watching them.

“But—that’s—that’s just for our protection,” he repeats what master told him, flustered, and Zach just laughs.

“It’s alright, really. I’m just gonna miss seeing the sky, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to stay here all day, though.”

“Right. I don’t really see myself getting taken out to be used all that often, not when he has you,” Zach points out matter-of-factly and Erik’s face turns red.

“No—but that’s not—you’re not—,” he stammers, looking for the words to make this clear. “You are free to move around the house as you want,” he insists.

“Sure,” Zach says dismissively and Erik wants to scream in frustration. Though, why should he believe _him._ He’ll just have to hear it from master. “Come, let’s get that breakfast.”

He grabs his duffle bag on his way out and Erik eyes it curiously.

“What’s in there?”

“My shakes and the pre-made meals I always eat,” Zach shrugs, not meeting Erik’s eyes.

“Oh. But—that’s hardly enough for two months, right?”

“Of course not, don’t be silly. Master’s going to have more delivered here later.”

Erik doesn’t reply, unsure what to say. He’d love to say he can throw those away and eat what Tracy makes, but he knows it’s not that simple.

Everyone’s already in the kitchen by the time they make it there and Tracy’s face lights up as she sees Zach.

“Oh Zach, it’s so nice to have you here!”

His smile is bright and genuine as he gives her a crushing hug.

“Tracy! Always nice to see you. Do you think you could put this in the fridge somewhere?”

Tracy peeks into the bag and her face falls. “What _is_ that? You’re not eating that!” she says, horrified, taking a step back.

“Tracy,” Zach pleads softly. Everyone in the room has gone quiet, watching them. Dennis frowning, serious, and Jerry with wide curious eyes.

With a huff, Tracy takes the bag and starts angrily stocking the plastic boxes with sealed, pre-made meals into the fridge. “I’m going to talk to master about this. This is ridiculous.”

“Tracy, please,” Zach says and now he just sounds tired.

“Go take a seat, I made the cheesecake you like, I’ll bring you a piece.”

Zach only groans.

“You know I _can’t_. I’ll have a bite because that shit is just too good, but I can’t.”

Once again he reaches into his bag and gets a plastic bottle and a bag with some kind of powder. He quickly mixes it with tap water and shakes the bottle for a while before he finally takes a seat at the table.

“You wanna taste?” he smirks at Jerry when he catches him staring and Jerry quickly drops his eyes, his cheeks turning pink.

A moment later, Tracy places a plate with a fluffy cheesecake and fresh strawberries in front of Zach, who gives it a longing look. It’s almost cruel, Erik thinks. Tracy means well but Zach has surely his orders from master and she’s not making it easy for him.

He’s saved from the situation when Dennis’ phone pings.

“Master wants you upstairs,” Dennis says and Zach downs the rest of his shake, wiping his mouth.

“Eager, is he?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Erik rolls his eyes. He wants to tell Zach it’s _not_ what he’s thinking but then again, he might be wrong. Maybe it is exactly what he’s thinking and master just can’t wait to bend him over the table.

“I’ll show you where the office is,” Dennis gets up and Erik watches them leave, the uneasy feeling in his stomach only growing. Once they’re gone, he helps himself to Zach’s plate, ignoring Tracy’s glares as he eats the cheesecake.

\--°°--

Zach enters only a minute after he sent the message to Dennis. He looks calm enough as he walks to the middle of the room, stopping there. His arms hang loosely by his sides, his breathing slow and measured and his face carefully blank. Gabriel’s seen him do that before. It’s a mask—a good one, but a mask nonetheless.

“Welcome to my house,” Gabriel says. “As you’re going to stay here for a while, I think it’s important to set up some ground rules right away. While you’re here, I’m going to treat you as one of my own. I don’t really care about how you do things at home or what Tony told you to do or not to do here, I will expect the same from you as I do from everyone else. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Zach replies easily and Gabriel raises his eyebrows.

“Master,” he corrects him mildly and the boy blinks in surprise.

“Yes, master,” he corrects himself, though the word doesn’t leave his mouth easily. Gabriel smirks.

“As for what the rules and expectations are, Dennis will tell you everything. You are to obey him, as he is in charge and I _will_ hear about it if you give him any trouble. He will also answer any questions you have.”

“Yes, master.”

“Alright, then,” Gabriel gets up, satisfied. He walks around the table and leans against the desk. “Now, strip,” he orders quietly. He wants to know what he’s dealing with here, what state Tony sent him here in. Sure, he’s pretty adamant about not reducing the boy’s worth with any permanent injuries, but what exactly that means is pretty subjective.

Zach doesn’t miss a beat as he steps out of his pants and pulls the shirt over his head in one fluid motion. Gabriel slowly circles him before he comes closer, running his hand over his abs and strong muscular thighs.

“He really doesn’t go easy on you, does he?” Gabriel murmurs, running his fingers over the welts on his skin. His thighs, both in the front and in the back, as well as his ass are covered with them. They look like they’ve been made with a cane and pretty recently, too. Did Tony mark him on purpose before sending him here? Gabriel wouldn’t put it past him.

There’s a plethora of older marks and bruises all over his body but nothing worrying that would require Gabriel’s attention.

Finally, he circles back to the front and takes hold of Zach’s cock. Even soft, he’s large and heavy in Gabriel’s hand. He gives him a few strokes, wanting to see him hard again. He reacts almost immediately and yep, it’s as impressive as he remembers.

He lets go, taking a step back.

“That’ll be all. You can go,” he dismisses him, sitting back at the computer. After a moment of stunned silence, Zach quickly redresses and backs out of the office.

\--°°--

Zach spends the rest of the first day holed up in Jerry’s—well, their—room and Erik lets him be. When he came back, after seeing master, he looked kind of upset and confused. He asked to speak with Dennis and the two of them went to talk downstairs, so Erik hoped Dennis cleared everything up with him.

He just needs some time to settle, Erik thinks. He can’t even imagine how freaked out _he_ would be if he had to spend months in a strange master’s home.

Tracy’s been sulking and sour most of the day, too, and so Erik makes himself sparse. He finds a quiet corner in the garden, closing his eyes as he leans against the wall. Not long after that he hears barely audible padding of feet, and he smiles, knowing it’s Jerry without even having to open his eyes.

“Hey,” Erik nudges his shoulder as he sits down by his side, looking troubled. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I know,” Jerry says softly. “It’s just weird. I’ve gotten so used to having my own room. What if he snorts?”

Erik laughs and Jerry smiles back, though the worry is still plain on his face.

“I’ll get you ear plugs if he does.”

Before Jerry can answer, there’s a soft rustling of grass next to them and the small black cat comes closer, greeting them with a mewl.

“Look, look, she’s back,” Erik whispers excitedly and holds out his hand. The cat bumps his head in it and he pets her, satisfied with how much less bony she feels already.

“What is it doing here?” Jerry frowns. “Why is it coming back?”

“I don’t know,” Erik shrugs, not lifting his eyes from the cat that has now settled comfortably in Erik’s lap.

“You haven’t been feeding it, have you?”

“I—maybe?” he gives Jerry a guilty grin and Jerry groans in frustrating.

“Erik!”

“What? It’s just scraps and leftovers. She was hungry, weren’t you, Nugget?” he coos, ignoring the disbelieving look Jerry gives.

“You _named_ her? You are going to get in trouble, you know that? Master’s going to find out and he’s not going to like it. And I will get in trouble too as an accomplice! Why are you doing this to me,” he sighs unhappily and Erik gives him his best puppy eyes.

“Master’s not going to find out. She’s an outdoor cat, she just comes here for food and cuddles and is gone. There’s no harm in that. It’s fine!”

“You are the worst. I hate you sometimes,” Jerry grouses but it’s lacking heat. He shifts even closer, giving the purring cat a scratch under her chin. “I’ve gotta get back to work,” he gets up reluctantly after a minute of petting Nugget. “I’ll get you a brush to get rid of the cat’s hair from your pants.”

“You’re the best,” Erik calls after him as he leaves, but he only waves his hand.

Later in the evening, while everyone’s busied elsewhere, he makes a quick stop to the basement. He finds Zach sitting on the floor, pressed in one of the corners, but he decides not to comment.

“Hey, so, dinner’s soon,” he says awkwardly and Zach rolls his eyes.

“I know. You didn’t have go all the way down here to tell me that,” he smirks.

“Right. Well, there is actually something else I wanted to tell you.” Erik takes a breath and steps inside, straightening his back. This is something he’s been thinking about the whole day, working himself up with scenarios of what’s going to happen once everyone goes to sleep and Zach is left here alone with Jerry. Zach looks like an okay guy but he doesn’t _know_ him. What can he tell from seeing him twice? Nothing. And that’s kind of terrifying.

“If you so much as look at Jerry, if you touch a hair on his head, I’m gonna make sure you regret the day you were born,” he says seriously and the asshole has the nerve to _laugh_.

“Aw. That must be one of the cutest things ever. You’re like a—like a knight in shining armor.”

Erik glares at him and finally, Zach’s face turns serious. He gets up, stalking closer, and Erik plants his feet.

“Alright. I get it. You don’t know me and you don’t trust me. Fair enough. But even I am not _that_ much of an asshole. And just because I’m strong you think I’m going to hurt him?”

Well, yeah. That was the way it normally worked. It worked like this in the factory. The strong preyed on the weak and that’s just the way it was. Of course, master would never allow that here, but he’s not sure Zach knows that.

“I won’t, okay? I don’t have a death wish. Yet,” he smirks and then slides back down on the floor, exactly in the same position as before.

Erik deflates, feeling stupid. “Okay. Good,” he says awkwardly. The silence that follows is heavy and awkward, but at least Zach looks more amused than pissed. “So, uh—you talked to Dennis? You know you don’t have to stay down here, right?”

“Sure,” Zach replies flatly.

“Alright, cool,” Erik shrugs and then cringes. Why the hell is so awkward today? “I’ll—uh, I’ll see you later, then.”

Not waiting for an answer, he quickly runs back upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's my discord if anyone wants pop in and chat! https://discord.gg/zTf4Yjw


	36. Chapter 36

Erik is sprawled on the bed, watching master get dressed for work, too lazy to move, enjoying the last afterglows of his orgasm from his morning fuck. At a moment like this, he can’t remember why he was so worried about Zach. He’s still here, in master’s bed, while Zach’s downstairs and it doesn’t look like master’s too eager to change things.

Not yet, anyway.

“Master?” he lifts himself on the elbow, suddenly remembering his plans for today. “We’re going grocery shopping with Jerry today.”

“Alright?” master raises his eyebrows questioningly. “And?”

“Do you think we could take Zach with us?” he asks and master stops buttoning his shirt, considering. Erik suspects Zach’s going to spend the whole day in his room if they don’t drag him out of there and this is as good an excuse as any. He only hopes he won’t regret it.

“I don’t see why not,” master says finally. “Although…,” he adds and then grabs his phone, typing something. He then throws the phone on the bed and goes back to dressing up without finishing his thought.

Erik doesn’t have to wait long to find out what that was about as soon enough there’s a knock on the door and he barely has enough time cover his naked ass before Zach steps in. Erik glares at master; he hates when he brings people into the bedroom while he’s naked, which master seems to enjoy way too much.

“S—master?” Zach asks politely. His eyes skim over Erik and he smirks a little as Erik clutches the cover to his chin.

“Yes—did Dennis find one for you? Good,” master says as Zach holds out his hand. Erik recognizes it’s the same collar as he has: a simple, sleek black ring.

Master takes the collar, looking up at Zach. He’s the same height as master, maybe a tiny bit taller, but he still seems to be awkwardly hovering over master. Master snaps his finger, pointing to the floor, and Zach sinks to his knees with a grace Erik will never possess.

“There,” master smiles as he attaches it around Zach’s neck. “We wouldn’t want to lose you, would we? I don’t think Tony would be very happy,” he says and cups Zach’s cheek, running his thumb over his cheekbone affectionately. It’s such an intimate gesture and Erik is taken aback by the jab of jealousy he feels watching them. What the hell is wrong with him?

Even from where he’s lying in the bed, he can see Zach lean into the touch, ever so slightly, but then master’s hand is gone and the moment is broken.

“Go on, then,” master gestures and Zach quickly gets up and leaves without a glance back.

“You boys have fun today, I’ll be back from work in the evening. And I want to know if Zach gives you any trouble at all. I won’t tolerate him acting out, understood?”

“Sure, master,” Erik agrees easily even though right away he knows there’s a fat chance of him snitching on Zach to master.

After master’s gone, Erik makes a quick stop to the garden before breakfast, giving Nugget fresh water. He’s started using the gardening hose, which makes it much easier, considering he doesn’t have to sneak to the kitchen. All the food he’s left there last night is gone too, Erik notes.

At breakfast, there’s only the four of them, and Erik keeps uselessly glancing towards the door.

“Is Zach not coming?” he asks finally.

“He already grabbed his shake and went back downstairs,” Tracy scoffs. “And look—” she opens the fridge; a whole shelf is filled with stacked containers. “It’s all the same! Chicken, rice, vegetables. I tasted one yesterday and it’s nasty! It’s like eating a cardboard. Or—a rubber or something. How can his master make him eat that all the time? I’d go nuts!”

No one gives her an answer as there is really nothing to say. Food is food and as long as he’s fed, Zach’s master is well within his right to feed him this stuff.

“I offered to make him his own meals – low-fat, high-protein, whatever it is he needs to stay in shape, but he still refused! I just thought he’d welcome the change of diet from this disgusting stuff, that’s all,” Tracy sighs dejectedly and closes the fridge.

The atmosphere in the kitchen remains glum and Erik notices Jerry is pushing the food around his plate without really eating much.

“Are you alright?” Erik asks. Suddenly he has a stab of panic that despite _the talk_ they had yesterday, something happened at night.

“No, yeah I’m fine,” Jerry nods quickly. “It’s just—he slept on floor the whole night, did you know that?”

“He did?”

“Yeah. And when I told him to sleep _in the bed_ , he told me, and I quote, to mind my fucking business.”

Erik snorts, shaking his head. What the hell is his problem? Erik would be over the moon if he got to eat real food and sleep in a bed for a change, after years of living like that. He does know he’s allowed all these things here, right? Did his master give him orders about what he can or cannot do while he’s here? But then again, it’s not like he’s going to find out, right?

After breakfast, he heads downstairs while Jerry helps clean up the kitchen. He knocks on the door and waits for Zach’s grunted ‘yeah’ before entering.

He finds him standing in the middle of the room, his shirtless chest heaving, droplets of sweat rolling down his torso. It looks like he was just in the middle of some vigorous exercise and Erik makes himself stop ogling.

“So, um—We’re going shopping in thirty minutes. You wanna come?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Erik blinks, surprised. He was _not_ expecting this answer. “But—I asked master and he said you could.”

“That’s awesome but still no,” Zach smirks.

“ _Why_?” Erik asks, unable to hide his frustration.

“Because I fucking said so. Now get out, you’re messing up my morning routine.”

Without another word, Erik turns around and leaves, slamming the door behind him. Well, fuck him, then. If he wants to stay in that room for two months, he can knock himself out. See if Erik cares!

It’s better like this anyway, when it’s just the two of them. Jerry would probably be all weird and shy around Zach but like this, they chat about everything and nothing and have a good time.

They’re pushing the cart through the shop, Jerry so focused on his list that he doesn’t notice when Erik steers him to the aisle with pet supplies.

It’s when Erik grabs a bag of dry cat food and puts it in the cart that he notices.

“Whoa – what are you doing?”

“I can’t keep feeding her scraps, can I? What if it makes her sick? I don’t know what cats can or can’t eat!”

“I don’t know,” Jerry bites his lip nervously. “It’s risky.”

“It’s not like master checks the receipts, right?

“Dennis does.”

“We could say we’ve lost it. Come on, please! It’s fine. I’ll hide the bag in your greenhouse.”

“You—what?” Jerry sputters and Erik chuckles.

“It’s not like anyone else ever goes there but you!”

Jerry groans, seeing how he already lost this battle. “Alright. Fine. We might as well grab a few more things, then.”

They end up buying not only the food but also a roller for cat hair removal and an adorable mouse toy that Erik just couldn’t resist adding to the cart. And since they were already ‘losing’ this receipt, Erik grabbed both of them ice-cream popsicles that they ate sitting in the car.

“I like going shopping,” Erik hums as he finishes his ice cream. “Zach’s missing out. I don’t know what his deal is.”

“Do you think,” Jerry says slowly, “he would like—get punished for it when his master gets back?”

“Maybe,” Erik concedes. “But how would he find out? You think he would find out he slept on a fucking bed? I very much doubt that.”

“Who knows,” Jerry shrugs, uneasy.

When they get back, Tracy comes meet them at the car, and Erik’s heart sinks. Automatically, she grabs a few bags from the trunk to help them carry the groceries to the kitchen and Jerry gives Erik a slightly panicked look.

“Wait,” Erik quickly jumps out of the car. “I’ll do it.”

“It’s fine. You can take the rest.”

It’s clear from a quick glance at the remaining bags in the trunk that Tracy’s taken the bag with the cat food.

“Wait, let me – it’s heavy,” he reaches for the bag desperately and Tracy gives him an annoyed look.

“Erik! What in the—”

The bag rips as the both tug at, spilling its contents all over the driveway. Cursing, Erik drops to his knees, uselessly trying to stuff the things back.

“What’s going on?” Dennis comes out, probably drawn by the noise and isn’t that just fucking perfect. All that’s missing now is master and Zach to join the show.

“Nothing! I’ll just—”

“What’s this?” Tracy says, lifting the bag of cat food.

“I have no idea how it got there,” Erik mutters.

“Me neither,” Jerry quickly pipes up and Erik struggles not to laugh.

“Erik, please don’t tell me you’ve been feeding the cat after I told you not to,” Tracy sighs, exasperated.

“I can explain. Please?”

After they quickly clean up the mess on the driveway, Erik leads all of them to what he’s come to think of as his and Nugget’s part of the garden. It only takes a few minutes of calling before he hears her high-pitched greeting meowls and sees he jump from the wall and run towards him.

He picks her up and she presses close, clearly nervous from so many people.

“See? She’s the sweetest little thing. She won’t bother anyone. You don’t have to tell master. Dennis, please?” he looks to the older slave pleadingly, knowing that in the end, it’s him who will make the decision

Dennis watches him for a long time, his face sad. Then he comes closer, letting Nugget sniff his fingers before gently petting her head.

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” he sighs unhappily and Erik’s stomach sinks. “I’m not going to tell master but you’re playing with fire here. If master finds out, he’s going to get rid of her.”

“He won’t find out,” Erik says fiercely with a conviction he doesn’t feel. There are doubts creeping at the back of his mind but he does his best to ignore them. It’s too late now, anyway. He’s too attached to the little fluffy ball in his hands and he’s not giving her up.

“I really do hope so. I don’t want to see you hurt, if he takes her away from you,” he says seriously and then smiles a little. “But then again, master has changed a lot since you’ve come here so I guess nothing is impossible. Just be careful.”

“Thank you, Dennis,” Erik says gratefully and he would probably hug him if his hands weren’t full right now. “You’re the best.”

“I thought _I_ were the best,” Jerry jokes quietly and Erik snorts.

“And _you_ ,” Dennis looks at Jerry, unamused. “Why am I not surprised you’re involved in all of this?”

“It’s always Erik’s idea,” Jerry mutters.

“Hey!” Erik interjects.

“Enough, both of you! Jerry, go in the kitchen and put the shopping away,” Dennis orders, leading Jerry inside the house. Tracy stays behind, giving Nugget gentle scratches, too.

“Why does master hate cats? Look at how adorable she is! How could anyone hate her?”

“Dennis told me there was a cat here when master was a kid. It was a mean old thing, hiding behind corners and jumping at master whenever he walked by, always breaking things, pissing on beds and such. So I guess that’s why,” Tracy shrugs.

Erik scoffs and lets Nugget down. She slowly strolls away, sprawling under a bush, watching them with her amber eyes.

“Has Zach left his room?” he asks then.

“No,” Tracy sighs.

“It’s going to be long two months,” Erik mutters under his breath. He fills Nugget’s bowl with the food they bought and hides it deep into her favorite bush, hiding the rest of the bag under some tools and supplies in the greenhouse.

Unsurprisingly, Zach’s nowhere to be seen during dinner, either. Later, while they’re watching a movie in the living room, Erik sitting on a pillow the floor between master’s legs, enjoying the gentle scratching of master’s nails on his scalp, master asks Dennis to send Zach in.

He comes a moment later, his face unreadable as always, and stops a polite distance away. Master beckons him closer with his finger and points on a spot on the floor next to Erik. Hesitantly, Zach goes to his knees where indicated.

“How did you enjoy the trip to the shop?” masters asks casually.

“It—it was very nice, master,” Zach answers after a beat and Erik shoots him a glare.

Without a warning, master reaches down and grabs Zach’s chin in a bruising grip, tilting his head so far back his back arches.

“Why are you lying to me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “You know the collar has a gps tracking, right?”

“I apologize, master,” Zach says evenly but Erik can see his chest heaving. He’s afraid but still his face doesn’t betray anything.

“Next time Erik asks you to go with him somewhere, you’ll _go_ , are we clear?”

Zach nods, as much as he can, anyway, and master lets him go. Then he grabs another pillow from the couch and throws it on the floor.

“Now, sit and be quiet, we’re watching a movie.”

A few hours later, Erik’s snuggled next to master in bed, dozing off while he’s waiting for him to finish whatever he’s doing on his phone so that they can finally go to sleep.

“Erik?” master asks all of a sudden. “Have you ever fucked anyone?”

Erik goes rigid. Despite his heart beating in his chest, he keeps his eyes closed and focuses on keeping his breathing deep and even, hoping he’ll get out of this conversation if he pretends to be asleep.

Then master’s hand is in his hair, tugging warningly. “I know you’re not asleep, pet. I asked you a question.”

Reluctantly, Erik opens his eyes. Master’s looking at him, his smile way too sharp for Erik’s liking. “I—no, master,” he admits finally.

“How sad,” master clucks his tongue but he’s too gleeful to sound even remotely sincere. “Would you like to?”

“I—I don’t—” Erik stammers.

“Let me rephrase that. Would you like to fuck Zach?”

Erik clenches his teeth and looks away. He’s not fucking answering this question.

“Or would you rather he fucked you? He’s quite big, you know?” master says quietly after a moment of stubborn silence and Erik huffs, giving master a pleading look.

“I don’t like either of the options, master,” Erik pouts and master chuckles. He loosens the grip on Erik’s hair, tucking the few stray strands behind his ear.

“Come on, now. I’m being nice and giving you a choice. Would you like _me_ to decide? You might not like what I come up with,” master notes casually.

Erik bites the inside of his cheek and remains quiet. He doesn’t want to choose. He doesn’t want Zach to fuck him, not with a dick his size. But as imposing as he is, maybe it would be the easier of the two. All he’d had to do is take it. The other way round – he doesn’t even know if he could do it.

“Sleep on it, sweetheart,” master says smugly, pecking a kiss on his lips, switching off the bed lamp and going to sleep. He falls asleep almost immediately while Erik keeps staring at the ceiling long into the night.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took me so long, but real life was busy. I was sick and the kids were sick and then the kindergarten was closed but I'm back on track, hopefully! But I did post two new chapters of Jerry in the meantime, if you haven't read those already;-)

The next morning, master leaves early for work without a word about what they talked about last night. The way he looks at him, all smug and gleeful, tells Erik that in no way has he forgotten about it, though.

He doesn’t really feel like eating breakfast, his stomach tied in knots, and he barely notices he’s been pushing the food around for the plate for the last ten minutes.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when the door to the kitchen flies open and Zach enters, heading straight for the fridge.

“Hey,” Erik perks up but Zach only shoots him a sidelong glare. “What’s up?”

Zach grunts in reply, quickly and efficiently preparing his shake, and then goes back before Erik can think of anything to say.

“Wait—” he calls after him but Zach doesn’t even slow down, the door banging shut behind him. “Urgh,” Erik grunts in frustration, running his hands over his face. “What the hell is his deal?”

“Leave him be. This can’t be easy for him,” Dennis says softly from where he’s is sitting at the counter, working on his laptop

“Like hell I will,” Erik mutters under his breath. He can’t do this when Zach’s being all weird like this. Having to have sex with him is going to be awkward enough without him acting like a jerk. Erik’s going to drag him out of that room and make him talk, whether he likes it or not.

That’s all he really wants, for Zach to just talk to him. He needs to make him see that he’s on his side and they’re in this together. Why is Zach being this hostile? He wasn’t like that those two times they saw each other before. But if he thinks Erik’s that easy to push away, he’s sorely mistaken. After all, annoying someone into talking with him is one of Erik’s secret talents.

Determined, he gets up, his breakfast untouched, and heads downstairs. He finds Zach slightly breathless, clearly just having started his morning exercise again. Erik ignores the annoyed look Zach gives him, smiling brightly at him instead.

“What?” Zach asks impatiently.

“Just wanted to ask if—after you’re done, of course—you’d like to come with us to the market. It’s actually more fun than it sounds like—I got some pocket money from master, I could buy us—”

“No,” Zach interrupts him resolutely and Erik feels his patience crumble. He did want to try this the friendly way, but Zach is not making it easy for him.

“Master said you are to go with me when I ask you to,” he huffs, hating to bring to master into this, but not really seeing any other option.

“You’d better run to tell master, then,” Zach smirks, amused, and Erik wants to scream in frustration.

“Why are you acting like a jerk?” Erik snaps and when Zach comes closer, towering menacingly over him, he juts his chin stubbornly, even though his heart is pounding in his chest.

“Why don’t you get out of my hair?”

“Why don’t _you_ get your head out of your ass? Everyone here has been nothing but kind and understanding and you’re just being an asshole right now!”

“If you’re being so _understanding_ , why don’t leave me be as I asked you to? I don’t want anything from either of you,” he scoffs, turning his back to Erik, who’s not about to be pushed away this easily. Not this time.

“What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t fucking hate you!” Zach yells, finally losing his temper with him, and Erik flinches. “I don’t hate you,” he repeats more softly, giving Erik a plaintive look. “I just hate—this, all of this,” he gestures around himself. “Everything you have here—food, and bed, and friends and being able to do whatever you want—I don’t want any of that!”

“You don’t?” Erik asks, confused, and Zach scoffs. He plops on the bed, all fight suddenly leaving him.

“Of course I do,” he mumbles, looking at the ceiling. “But in two months, while you’ll still be enjoying your life here, I’ll be back to sleeping on the floor and eating the gross stuff again. You know how long it took me to get used to it? To stop hating every second of it? I don’t want to have to go through that shit all over again.”

“Oh,” Erik deflates, feeling stupid, uselessly searching for anything to say. After a moment, he sits next to Zach, who stubbornly looks away.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly and Zach only shrugs. “But—it won’t be like this forever, right?” he tries. “I’ve heard he wants to sell you.”

“Right. He will eventually, once he finds the highest bidder. I don’t think it’s going to get much better, though,” he chuckles humorlessly. “All this time he’s been training me for endurance and to be able to take more pain, what kind of master you think will want to buy me, huh?”

“Maybe,” Erik says slowly, “Maybe my master could buy you?”

“Yeah, right. As if,” Zach laughs bitterly. “He hasn’t even fucked me yet. I thought for sure he’d at least sample me by now. Nah, he couldn’t care less.”

“That’s not true,” Erik argues but Zach only snorts, giving him a dubious look. “I mean it! He said—he wants to see us… together, you know?” Erik shrugs, trying to sound indifferent but his voice still shakes a little, unable to hide how fucking nervous he is about the whole thing

Zach sighs, letting his head fall against the wall behind him. “Of course he does,” he says hollowly, hugging his knees close to his chest. He stares ahead, his jaw working but after a beat, he turns to Erik, his face softening.

“I’m sure it’s going to be fine,” he says quietly and Erik’s not sure who he’s trying to reassure – Erik or himself. “But you need to go now,” Zach says tiredly. “I have to start the warm up all over again, now.”

“Wait, but—” Erik interjects but it seems Zach’s done talking. Taking his arm in a vice grip, he leads him to the door, gently but resolutely pushing him out. “Wait—at least come work out in the garden? It’s nice outside.”

Zach doesn’t answer, only clenches his jaw and closes the door.

Taking advantage of the nice weather, Erik makes himself comfortable in the garden with his sketchbook. He doesn’t get much farther than a few random doodles before Nugget appears from a bush and sprawls all over Erik’s lap and the sketchbook.

“I guess this means I’m done,” he chuckles and scratches her under the chin. She starts to purr immediately, her claws digging into Erik’s thighs.

That’s when the door opens and Zach enters. Erik perks up, giving him a beaming smile but Zach just rolls his eyes and goes to the far away end of the garden, as far from the house as possible, and starts doing a set of pushups.

Erik tries not to ogle, as it’s clear he doesn’t much care for an audience. Still, he can’t resist carefully balancing his sketchbook on top of Nugget and doing a few quick sketches of his body, the muscles playing on his arms and legs as he quickly moves from exercise to another.

In about an hour, he’s done and Erik quickly closes the sketchbook, hiding it under him as he sees him slowly stroll closer.

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” he says, gesturing to Nugget who’s still soundly asleep on his lap.

“I don’t,” Erik says. “And you’ve never seen a cat around here, got it?”

“Alright,” Zach snorts, shaking his head. “Look, I just—I’m sorry,” he huffs, sitting down next to Erik. “You were right. There was no need for me to be an ass to you and the others. I just need to get over myself,” he says quietly.

“No, Zach,” Erik sighs unhappily. “That’s not—”

“No, it’s fine, seriously. I’ll figure this out. I can still keep up all my routine and stuff and not be an insufferable bastard about it,” he gives a self-depreciating smile.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too,” Erik mutters, scratching Nugget behind her ear. “I’ll try not to get in your hair as much,” he jokes and Zach chuckles.

Easy silence settles between them and Erik’s mind inevitably goes back to what master told him. He needs to tell Zach; it’s only fair to ask him what _he_ would prefer. At the same time, he’s terrified and he can’t make himself speak up. What if Zach insists on being the top? Erik doesn’t think he’ll be able to refuse him but he does _not_ want to get fucked by Zach and his stupid huge cock.

Then the moment passes and Zach gets up and leaves. Later though, he sits down with them for lunch for the first time. Sure, he still eats his pre-packed meal, but Erik can tell he’s trying, joining the conversation here and then. He jokes around with Tracy and even takes one bite of her pie, humming appreciatively, making Tracy preen.

It’s progress, Erik thinks, even if Zach disappears back in the room for the rest of the afternoon while Erik heads to the market alone with Jerry.

\--°°--

“Well, sweetheart? Have you thought about my question?” master asks casually that evening as they’re getting to ready for bed and Erik goes tense. Truth be told, he hasn’t thought of much else and part of him just wants to refuse to participate in master’s stupid mind games. There’s another part, though, loud and demanding to be heard, that tells him his pride is worth jackshit and there’s no point in making his life harder than it has to be.

Still, the words refuse to leave his mouth and he sets his jaw stubbornly. When the silence stretches on, master raises his eyebrows and comes closer, gently cupping his face.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” he asks, sounding amused though his eyes are dark and Erik swallows nervously. “You want _me_ to choose? You sure that’s wise?” he teases.

When he lets go of his face and turns away, humming thoughtfully, Erik’s resolve crumbles.

“Master, no, wait – I’ll—I’ll do it. I’ll fuck Zach,” he says reluctantly and master rewards him with a hungry smile. Fuck, he really is such a coward. He only hopes Zach won’t hate him too much for his selfish choice.

“Great. I’ll have him sent right up.”

“Like—now?” Erik asks in a small voice, his heart picking up. He sort of hoped to have more time to at least talk about it with Zach.

“Yes, now,” master chuckles and already he’s typing on his phone. Once he’s done, he throws it on the table and makes himself comfortable on the bed, while Erik perches himself on the edge of the mattress, wringing his hands anxiously as he waits.

When the knock comes, Erik can’t hide his flinch, and master chuckles. Zach, to Erik’s frustration, looks perfectly at ease as he strides in. Erik’s not that stupid not to know it’s a show but damn, why is he so much better than Erik?

“Master,” he greets. He goes to kneel on the floor but master pats the bed instead, beckoning him closer.

There’s a moment of awkward silence as he climbs in, looking between Erik and master uncertainly. Master nudges Erik towards Zach and he struggles to makes his body obey as he shuffles closer to the front of the bed, where’s Zach’s sitting on his heels.

“Don’t be shy,” master grins. “Why don’t you give Zach a kiss?”

Glancing in Zach’s green eyes, he sees something that gives him a pause, something sad and plaintive, but it goes away as Zach reaches for him, breaching the short distance between them as he captures his lips in a claiming kiss.

Erik blinks in surprise and then closes his eyes, letting himself go slack. Zach’s lips are soft and warm. He takes hold of Erik’s hair at the nape of his neck to steady him as his tongue darts inside Erik’s mouth, while shifting both of them subtly to give master a better view.

It’s clear Zach is used to giving a show and he’s happy to let him take the lead. Zach kisses him, rough and hungry, while his other hand moves underneath Erik’s shirt, running up and down his chest.

When he finally pulls away, using the break to only pull Erik’s shirt over his head, Erik’s panting and his head is swimming. Everything’s moving fast and Zach seems comfortable in his dominant role. It makes sense; Erik remembers he mentioned his master loves having him fuck other slaves, and Erik has a moment of doubt, whether he really did make the right choice here.

Taking his own shirt off, Zach’s strong hand against his chest pushes Erik to lie down on the bed and he resumes his kissing, moving down his neck and sucking bruises onto his collarbone and shoulders. Erik can’t help but moan and squirm, his dick growing hard.

“Alright, stop,” master says, amused. Immediately, Zach sits up, glancing nervously at master, while Erik tries to get his breath under control. “I can see Tony usually puts you on the top and you’re used to being the one in control, so I’m gonna help you out a bit. Come here.”

Master gets a length of rope and ties Zach’s wrists together in the front. Next he takes a simple black blindfold and fastens it around Zach’s head.

“There,” he says softly, just stroking Zach’s face affectionately for a while, probably letting him get used to the darkness. He then steers him to get on all fours in the center of bed and taking hold of his hair, he presses his head down into the matress, while nudging his legs wider apart.

When he’s satisfied, he pats Zach’s ass affectionately and returns to the front of the bed, reaching into the nightstand drawer and handing Erik a bottle of lube.

“Go on, then. You know what to do.”

Erik bites his lips as he settles behind Zach. Sure, he knows what to do in theory, but he’s never done it before. His hands shake a little as he opens the bottle and then squirts what is probably too much lube on Zach’s hole. Zach flinches– shit, he should have probably warned him—but then takes a deep breath in and settles down.

Erik watches in fascination as his finger disappears inside Zach’s warm, tight hole, his dick twitching at the sight. He keeps at it for a while before adding a second finger, glancing at master for approval, only to find him watching Erik with dark, lust-filled eyes.

Taking his own pants down, master roughly grabs Zach’s hair and pulls him closer.

“Open,” he growls and Zach obediently opens his mouth, fumbling a little before he finds master’s dick and starts to suck.

“Go on, pet,” master nods towards Erik. “Fuck him.”

With a steading breath, Erik gets up on his knees and lines himself up with Zach. He presses in slowly, surprised by how tight Zach feels. Zach lets go of master’s dick, panting and grunting a little and Erik’s suddenly terrified he’s hurting him. Should he have prepared him more? He wants to stop but one look at master’s face tells him that’s probably not a good idea.

After a moment, Zach seems to get used to it anyway, taking master’s dick back in his mouth. Erik takes hold of his hips and speeds up his thrusts. He has no intention of dragging this out, despite how shamelessly good it feels.

Master fists both his hands in Zach’s hair and guides him all the way down on his dick. Erik can hear him gag and feels him tense up but master doesn’t let go, holding him in firmly in place. When he does let him up, after what feels like eternity, he sputters and gasps for air, before he’s mercilessly pulled all the way back again.

Erik closes his eyes, focusing on himself, on his pleasure, and not on master choking Zach on his dick. He just wants to finish and have this over with, to be honest, and he won’t be doing Zach any favor either, if his dick decides to go soft now.

Erik’s sweating by the time he finally feels himself getting close, and Zach is too, his broad back glistening with small droplets of sweat.

“Master?” Erik pants and master gives him an indulgent smile.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

He comes with a grunt, his hold on Zach’s grip tightening. When he’s done, he pulls out, cringing at squelching sound.

“Turn around,” master orders. “On your back.”

Clumsily, Zach obeys, panting, his chin glistening with a spit and saliva. Wasting no time, master moves to the front of the bed and thrusts in his loose hole with ease.

“Erik,” he snaps his fingers. “Suck him off.”

Gingerly, he climbs on top of Zach. It puts his ass in Zach’s face and Erik’s suddenly grateful for the blindfold. Zach’s dick, impressive even when semi-erect, is bouncing against his belly with every master’s thrust and Erik gives it a few strokes before taking the head in his mouth.

Underneath him, Erik can feel Zach’s breath hitch and almost immediately he grows fully hard. It encourages Erik who takes more of his dick in his mouth, though there’s no way he’d be able to deep-throat someone of his size.

Soon enough, Zach’s breathing hard, the muscles in his torso tensing. He’s close, Erik can tell and he increases his efforts. It feels like the least he can do for him is give him an orgasm. Who knows how often he is allowed to come back home, but Erik’d wager it’s much less often than Erik is.

“Erik,” Zach whispers in panic, nudging him away with his bound hands.

Erik hesitates, glancing up at master, who shakes his head. “Oh no, you don’t. Keep going.”

Zach lets a broken sob as Erik resumes his sucking. Weirdly, it seems that he’s trying to hold back and he wishes master would reassure him that he’s allowed to come, which Zach doesn’t seem to realize. Master, however, is too lost in fucking Zach to care or notice.

Arching his back, Zach comes into Erik’s mouth with a pained cry. Erik licks him clean and when master reaches down, smiling at Erik and petting his hair approvingly, he can’t help but smile back at him.

After that Zach goes completely boneless. Master hoists up Zach’s legs and starts to fuck him faster and harder than before. Poor Zach seems a bit overwhelmed at that point, bringing his bound hands to his mouth and muffling the broken little sounds he’s making with every thrust.

It doesn’t take much longer for master to finish too. With a satisfied grunt he collapses on the pillows, but not before taking off Zach’s blind fold and untying his hands.

Erik curls next to master, who throws an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close. Zach stays exactly where they left him for a moment, blinking blearily, his chest heaving, before he slowly gets up and out of the bed. When he reaches for his discarded clothes, master snaps at him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m sorry, master, I thought—” Zach’s eyes go wide and it’s clear he has no idea what he’s done wrong.

“Come here,” master sighs, raising his other arm invitingly and Erik grins at the utter look of confusion on Zach’s face. Still, he obeys, awkwardly lying down on master’s other side, mirroring Erik’s position.

“Alright,” master chuckles. “Well, that was very nice, indeed.”

Erik cuddles closer and hums, satisfied, when master presses a kiss on the top of his head. Turning his head, master lands another kiss on Zach’s forehead. Zach blinks, slow and surprised, and it would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking heartbreaking too. Tentatively, Zach shifts a little closer, resting his head on master’s shoulder, closing his eyes and Erik follows his lead.

“Alright, up you go,” master nudges him gently and Erik jerks up awake, blinking blearily. He’s no idea how long he’s been dozing off, but it must have been a while judging from the itchy scratchy feeling of dried sweat on his skin.

Reluctantly he lets master up, who gets out of the bed and disappears into the bathroom. From the other side of the bed, Zach raises his eyebrows questioningly and Erik rolls his eyes fondly. As better-trained and more-experienced as Zach is, it’s clear that he is completely out of his depth here as not being kicked out of the bed after sex is most likely a whole new experience for him.

With a smile, Erik takes Zach’s hand and leads him to the bathroom. The shower is already running and master’s waiting for them, nudging them both inside under the spray before joining them.

It’s a bit of a tight fit but they manage. With quick and sure movements, master rubs both of them down with a loofah. Zach is weirdly subdued the entire time, letting himself to be turned and positioned as needed, spreading his legs obediently as master washes away the residues of the dried up come from his inner thighs.

After they’re all clean and dry, they return to the bedroom. Master steers Zach towards the bed with a firm hand on his lower back before he can try leaving again. Erik doesn’t have to be told twice to go to bed, as exhausted as he is, and he plops onto the soft mattress with a content sigh.

Master takes his place back in the middle and Erik once again presses close while Zach remains lying rigid on his back a safe distance away. Master’s having none of that, though, and he pulls him closer before throwing the blanket over all three of them and cuing the lights off.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I'm making up for the longer wait:)

“I’m going to go fucking nuts here,” Zach grits through his teeth as they all sit down to eat breakfast, his legs jiggling up and down.

It’s been a week since his visit to master’s bedroom and things started to get settled again. They haven’t really talked about what happened. Erik tried but Zach stopped him before he could get a word out.

“Don’t even try to apologize,” he said and Erik snapped his mouth shut.

“I wasn’t gonna,” he lied. “Just wanna know you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Zach said calmly, his face relaxed, and Erik wished he wasn’t that stupidly good at his unreadable thing.

But everything did seem fine. Until today, that is. Right from morning, Erik’s noticed Zach’s been weirdly agitated, pacing the kitchen restlessly while Tracy was preparing breakfast, cradling his shake to his chest without drinking it.

“What’s wrong?” Erik asks and then backtracks, realizing how stupid that question is. “I meant, something wrong _er_ than usual?”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I miss my treadmill. It doesn’t matter how much I try to tire myself out with exercising, it’s not enough. I just fucking need to have my run.”

Erik doesn’t reply, unsure what to say, but suddenly Zach perks up, looking at Dennis, who’s sitting across the table, watching them thoughtfully.

“Oh, I know – Dennis, could you ask master if I could have the treadmill from my master’s place?”

“Isn’t it a bit too big to be moved?” Dennis frowns, considering and Zach waves his hand.

“Nah, it can be taken apart, I’m pretty sure it would fit into the car’s trunk. I’ll carry it all by myself, that’s no problem. Does master have a key to the apartment? He probably does. Dennis, please? Could you ask master? He said I’m to talk to you if I need anything and I really do need that treadmill,” he pleads, turning wide earnest eyes at Dennis.

“Okay, I’ll bring it up with master when comes home.”

“Thank you, Dennis,” Zach breathes out and then leans closer. “If you make this happen for me, I’ll owe you. Big time,” Zach says suggestively, his tongue darting out to slowly lick his lips.

Next to him, Jerry inhales his tea, coughing and sputtering, his face turning bright red as he tries to catch his breath. Dennis, on the other hand, seems completely unfazed by Zach’s suggestion and only gives him an unimpressed look.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says flatly.

“You okay there, buddy?” Zach grins, slapping Jerry’s back, who only wheezes, nodding his head.

Erik digs into his breakfast, doing his best to ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach that Zach was only half-joking with his offer.

They laze most of the day in the garden, the three of them. Now that Zach doesn’t spend all his time hiding in his room, Erik’s discovered he’s actually pretty easy be around. Even Jerry seems to be warming up to him but. Sure, most of the time he prefers just to listen, chuckling quietly at their jokes from time to time, but at least he’s relaxed enough to work on his garden with them keeping him company.

“How do you do this?” Zach asks, as he stretches his legs lazily in the grass. “Having nothing to do all day?”

“Oh yeah, it’s hard work,” Erik jokes as it really was that easy, as if there weren’t days when he though he’d start climbing the walls with boredom and restlessness.

“Though I don’t know which is worse. I have my all days planned down to a minute. 6 am wake up. 6:15 shower. 6:25 breakfast… The whole fucking day. Master randomly checks on me too and you do _not_ want to be doing something else than you’re supposed to, let me tell you,” Zach chuckles humorlessly. “This was probably the biggest shock for me when master got me. You know, as a kid, I was left to my own devices pretty much all the time. Sometimes I think my mother forgot she even had a kid.”

“Really?” Erik pauses, looking at him. This is the first time Zach has mentioned his past and Erik can’t help the curiosity growing in his chest. Zach’s playing with a leaf he found on the ground, tearing it into tiny little pieces and it’s clear he’s trying to sound more nonchalant than he feels.

“Yeah, she was a junkie, though. I would roam the streets all day long, getting into trouble and such. She ODed when I was sixteen and I decided to get my shit together at that point. And look how great that turned out. I’m all sorted out,” he chuckles.

“What happened?” Erik asks. He hopes he’s not coming off as too nosy but more likely, Zach is eager to lay it off his chest. Erik doesn’t blame him; he’d go insane if he had no one else to talk to here.

“I was stupid,” Zach shrugs, not lifting his eyes from the leaf. “I wanted to get out of here, get a fresh start, maybe see the world a little. And so when I ran into these guys who said they had a gig for me and offered really good money, I didn’t ask any questions. I really needed that money, I just assumed they would fuck me or something. It’s not like I haven’t whored myself out before for a quick buck. But anyway, they gave me this bag and told me to drop it off somewhere. It was a set up; they were drug dealers and needed the cops off their backs so they threw me under the bus. I got busted with about 20 grand worth of heroin in the bag. And with my history as a young delinquent, I went straight to the auction.”

“Damn,” Erik says quietly. Jerry’s taken off his gloves too and is now sitting next to Zach, hugging his knees and listening. “Was that where your master bought you?”

“Yeah. He got me real cheap, too, considering I was unskilled and untrained. I think he’s determined to turn a good profit on me. And it’s not like he needs the money either. He just needs a new hobby, if you ask me.”

“Right, maybe he should get a dog or something,” Erik chuckles.

“Oh no, poor dog! I wouldn’t even trust him with a plant. Though maybe he could get one of those tiny trees that you have to trim and shit, what’s it called?”

“Bonsai?” Jerry offers.

“That’s it,” Zach laughs and Erik joins him, enjoying the exhilarating feeling of being able to talk shit about Zach’s master. “Though I’ve heard plants require love and care too so he’d probably kill those too – oh shit,” Zach quickly shuts up, going tense. Lifting his head, Erik sees what Zach’s looking at – master coming towards them in quick, purposeful strides.

With a stab panic, Erik looks around himself, checking if Nugget’s not there, but luckily she is nowhere to be seen.

Quickly, Jerry puts his gloves back on and hurries back to his greenhouse. When master reaches them, Erik opens his mouth but before he can even greet him, he throws something in front of Zach. It’s a pair of sneakers and they land on the ground with a soft thud.

“Try these on,” he tells Zach, who quickly obeys.

“They fit, master,” Zach answers, glancing at master uncertainly.

“Great. Let’s go then.”

Zach gets up, giving Erik a bewildered look.

“Where are you going, master?” Erik asks as he gets up too, catching up to them as they both head towards the gate.

“Running. I’ve heard Zach’s been missing his exercise and I thought I could stretch my legs too. Let’s go.”

Erik watches them jog along the outer wall of the garden until they reach a small dirt road and disappear behind the horizon. From the corner of his eye he sees Jerry join him by his side.

“He never took _me_ for a run,” Erik complains, unable to stop himself from sounding bitter. Next to him, Jerry snort softly.

“Would you like to?” he asks, surprised.

“Why not?” Erik bristles. “Just because I don’t look like him, all muscly and shit, doesn’t mean I’m not fit. Not that long ago I used to work for 18 hours a day. I could handle a jog!”

“I’m sure you could,” Jerry says placatingly, giving him a sad smile. It’s ridiculous, Erik realizes. Now he’s jealous? When master fucked Zach, he didn’t care, but now he’s worried? Taking a deep breath, he forces himself relax and follows Jerry back inside.

\--°°--

Gabriel sets up a pace and Zach falls a polite distance behind him. The path is pretty narrow so he leaves him be. It’s not like he could hold a conversation anyway, as embarrassingly winded as he is already.

The path follows the road for a while before it turns and climbs up through the vineyards that cover the hills surrounding Gabriel’s house. There’s not another living soul to be seen and that’s just another advantage of not having any immediate neighbours.

It’s peaceful, the low evening sun painting long shadows on the ground, and Gabriel’s surprised at how much he enjoys it. He needs to start running more often. At least now he’ll have a bit more motivation.

After about thirty minutes they reach the highest point and Gabriel stops, panting. There’s a little clearing with an old, dilapidated bench, and Gabriel leans against it as he stretches his legs.

Next to him, Zach looks as fresh as ever, barely having broken any sweat, while Gabriel’s soaked shirt sticks to his back.

“I really do need to work on my stamina. It’s been too long,” he chuckles and Zach gives him an easy smile. He’s has really pretty teeth, Gabriel thinks and realizes this might as well be the first time he ever saw him smile. It makes him look younger, too, he notes.

“I think you’re doing fine, master. You’re in great shape.”

Gabriel chuckles. He’s not as naïve as to not know Zach only says that because he has to. But then again, compared to Tony and his chubby belly hanging over the belt of his pants, he’s not doing that bad.

“Let’s take a break here for a while, huh?” Gabriel says, sitting down on the bench.

“Thank you so much for taking me, master,” Zach says when he joins him, sitting so close their legs are touching. Then, without any warning, he slides onto his knees, wincing slightly as the small stones in the sand dig into his knees. Still he doesn’t lose his smile as he looks up at Gabriel, while reaching for the waistband of his shorts.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel asks, unamused, as he grabs his hair.

“I—I only wanted to show my appreciation,” the boy grins and Gabriel narrows his eyes at him, hesitating. It is tempting, he’s not going to lie. There’s something thrilling about it, being outside, under the open sky. Not that he’s expecting anyone to show up here, but still. And Zach’s looking at him openly without a hint of fear or nervousness, his lips parted.

“Please?” he says and that’s when the last of Gabriel’s inhibition crumbles.

“Go on, then,” he growls, letting go off him. Zach wastes no time tugging Gabriel’s pants down and swallowing his dick. Gabriel leans back with a sigh, enjoying the last rays of the sun while the boy’s head bobs up and down between his legs.

After he comes, he sags onto the bench, suddenly lazy and exhausted.

“Damn,” he chuckles, looking at Zach who’s now sitting on his heels wiping his mouth. “Now I gotta run all the way back, huh?”

Fortunately, the way back is downhills so he manages fine, but he’s still ready to go to bed when they get home. Erik’s waiting for them on the porch and he jumps up as they approach.

“How was the run, master?” he asks, his eyes flicking between the two them.

“Good, it was good. A bit more draining than I expected,” he smiles and Zach grins too. Erik narrows his eyes but doesn’t comment, setting his mouth in a thin line.

Gabriel heads straight for the shower, and almost as soon as he steps under the spray, washing away the dust and sweat, the sliding door opens and Erik slips in. Wordlessly, he takes the loofah and starts to wash his back.

After a moment, though, his touch becomes more intimate and he shoot Gabriel an uncertain look as he leans closer, pressing his crotch against Gabriel’s thigh.

Reaching down to stroke his cheek, Gabriel smiles at him fondly, pecking a kiss on his lips.

“Not now, sweetheart,” he says, hating the way Erik’s face falls. Immediately, though, he schools his expression, and grabs the shampoo, going on his tiptoes as he starts washing Gabriel’s hair.

For the rest of the evening Erik’s weirdly quiet and closed off. It occurs to Gabriel that he might be jealous, which is ridiculous. He’d never replace him for Zach. Erik’s gorgeous, he’s cute and funny and full of fire, and most importantly he’s _his_.

He holds him extra tight that night, enjoying the feeling of his slender, smaller body in his arms and presses a kiss into his clean, shiny hair before falling asleep.


	39. Chapter 39

Erik’s leaning against the windowsill, brushing his hair. He’s naked, as he just woke up and couldn’t be bothered to put on his clothes. Lately he kind of stopped caring about his nudity when it is just the two of them; what was the point, anyway.

Master’ humming some grating upbeat melody as he bustles around the bedroom, getting ready for the day, and Erik shoots him an annoyed glare. Ever since opening his eyes this morning, Erik’s sour mood has only worsened and he can’t even put a finger on the source of his irritation. And seeing master all cheerful and smiling doesn’t help in the slightest. What is he so happy about anyway? Going for another run with Zach?

It’s become a semi-daily routine now. Sometimes before work and sometimes late in the evening, they both grab their shoes and disappear up the dirt road behind the house for an hour, sometimes longer. And with as little time as master spends home, it feels like he barely gets to seem him these days.

And not to mention, who knows what they get up to when they’re alone. The fact is, though, master hasn’t even fucked him in three days now. But so what. Erik doesn’t even know why he minds. Shouldn’t he be glad to have master off his back more?

He grits his teeth and continues to brush his hair with a bit more force than necessary.

Maybe they are just talking, though – must be boring to run in silence for an hour, right? Erik wonders if they have a lot to talk about. Zach’s been with Tony for years, accompanied him to company events, he probably knows more about the world people like Tony and master live in. Unlike Erik…

“So I was thinking,” master says, bringing Erik from his thoughts. Erik keeps his eyes trailed out of the window, still mindlessly brushing his hair even though it’s been smooth and shiny for a while now. “I have a bit of time today, let’s go downtown, do some shopping, grab a lunch…”

“Why don’t you take Zach,” Erik says bitterly and then immediately regrets it. The icy silence that settles in the bedroom makes fear trickle down his spine and when he glances at master, the look on his face confirms that yep, he fucked up.

“I’m sorry, master, I don’t know why I said that,” Erik laughs nervously, wringing the brush in his hands. “Of course I would love to go out with you.”

Erik’s heart is beating in his chest as the silence drags on. Eventually, master slowly comes over and Erik flinches when he reaches for him, though he only gently runs his fingers through Erik’s hair, tucking it behind his ear.

“I’ve been neglecting you lately, haven’t I?” he says quietly. “You want a bit more of my attention, is that it?”

He has no idea how to respond to that but master doesn’t wait for an answer anyway, as he takes his wrist and leads him to the bed. Obediently, Erik follows but when master takes the brush from his hand and then settles on the bed, patting his lap, Erik balks.

“Master, no, I’m sorry—”

Before he takes as much as a step back, master grabs him, manhandling him with surprising strength until he’s lying flat on the bed, his naked ass on master’s lap. With one hand he grabs Erik’s hair, pressing his head into the bed, pinning him down, while with his other he raises the brush and lands it on Erik’s ass with a loud smack.

It stings even though it’s nowhere near as painful as the switch or even the cane. Erik fists his hands in the bed sheet as the hit keep falling, the pain building steadily.

It seems to go on for ever. There is no number to look forward to, nothing to tell him when it’s going to be over. As soon as Erik gets his hopes up that master’s done, he just moves to the other cheek or to the underside of his ass and his thighs.

Soon enough, his whole ass is on fire and it takes all Erik’s willpower to keep his hands from reaching behind to shield or at least rub his poor ass and he almost wishes he had the cuffs on. He’s panting now, grunting and whimpering with pain every time the stupid brush hits. Master doesn’t seem angry, though – his hits are perfectly aligned and measured; he’s working him thoroughly with infuriating patience.

“Master,” Erik whines miserably, unable to keep quiet when master once again moves to the sensitive spot under his ass and he tries to squirm away. Master only tightens his hold, easily keeping him in place.

“What is it, sweetheart,” master chuckles. “You have my undivided attention, isn’t that what you wanted?”

Erik huffs and grits his teeth, refusing to answer. Master does put the brush aside, though, and Erik sags in relief when he starts to rub his sore bottom instead. He lets go off his hair and Erik stays put, panting. Master uses the hand to part Erik’s cheeks, while the thumb of his other hand teasingly circles the tight ring of Erik’s hole.

Shamelessly, Erik spreads his thighs and arches his back. He welcomes the change of pace here; anything to keep master from going back to the brush.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” master says fondly and Erik’s face turns red, though there is no denying that his dick has taken an immediate interest.

Master reaches for something and then his finger is back, slick with lube. He resumes teasing Erik’s hole and Erik huffs, squirming impatiently. He is rewarded with a sharp smack on his hot, throbbing ass and so he settles back down with a resigned sigh.

Soon it becomes apparent that his hope that master will quickly open him up and then fuck him was naïve. Master seems in no hurry to move things along. Infuriatingly slowly, he presses his finger in, massaging the spot inside that makes Erik’s toes curl. Then he pulls it out and adds another, still keeping the tortuously slow pace.

After what feels like eternity of teasing, Erik’s so frustrated he could cry. His ass and thighs are tingling and oversensitive, and his dick is hard and aching, leaking embarrassingly onto master’s suit pants. He feels like he’s going to go mad if someone doesn’t touch his dick _right now,_ and since master doesn’t seem eager to stop playing with his hole, he lifts himself slightly on his knees and reaches between his legs.

“Oh no, you don’t,” master growls, immediately wrestling his arms behind his back. Sliding his belt out of his pants, he uses it quickly ties his hands at his lower back. Erik could probably wriggle free out of it but he gets the message and goes limp, groaning unhappily.

“Master,” he complains, whining, and master just chuckles.

“What is it, pet?”

“Fuck me?” he grits through his teeth. He knows it’s nowhere near the submissive begging master most likely wants to hear from him, but it’s the best he can do right now.

“No,” master answer easily as he buries his fingers back in Erik’s ass. “If you want to come, you’re going to have to work for it.”

Erik frowns in confusion. What does that mean exactly? Work _how_? Before he can ask, though, master solves this dilemma for him.

“Go on,” he says, low and smug. “Rub yourself off against my leg.”

Erik goes cold all over with mortification. _Fuck that_. He’s not doing that. He’s not _that_ desperate. Well, maybe he is, but this is about _principle_.

“No?” master asks, amused, when he goes still, glaring in front of him in blatant refusal. “Suit yourself.”

Once again, he reaches into the drawer and Erik’s stomach sinks when the next moment he feels something hard and unyielding press against his hole. It’s a buttplug, Erik realizes, and master pushes it in unceremoniously without much consideration for Erik’s comfort, who groans and pants at the stretch and burn.

As soon as the thing is seated inside, master reaches back for the brush and _fuck,_ is he not holding back as he starts to paddle his ass again. Everything is made so much worse by the plug as Erik can’t help but clench at every hit and it sends a spark of pleasure amongst the soaring pain, not helping with his boner in the slightest.

Soon enough, he feels his resolve crumble. He’s such an idiot, really. When will he learn that he’s never going to win these battles? In the end, he’ll always obeys and his stubbornness only makes things worse. Or his ass more red, in this case.

“Master… alright… fuck, fine!” he gasps out between hits and fucking finally, master stops.

“Alright,” he says softly, playing with the end of the buttplug, making Erik hiss at the sensation. “Go on, then.”

Hesitantly, Erik tries to moving his hips, the friction of the fabric of master’s pants heavenly against his dick. It’s awkward and clumsy at first, before Erik finds some sort of rhytm. He closes his, focusing only on the pleasure, blocking everything else out. At this point, he really just wants to come, if only to please master.

Master keeps playing with the plug, pulling it out and then pushing it back in, and eventually it helps tip Erik over the edge. He stills as he comes with a strained cry, shooting his load all over master’s pants.

“There’s a good boy,” master purrs and Erik sags, exhausted and embarrassed, but also a bit giddy at the praise. He barely notices that master undoes the belt, freeing his hands. Only when master nudges him does he reluctantly get off his laps, sitting on his heels next to him.

“Look at that, you ruined my pants. What a mess,” master says fondly with a chuckle. He slips out of them, kicking them off carelessly to the floor. Then he lies back down and Erik crawls to his side, cuddling close, stupidly grateful when master wraps his arms around him, as he always does.

“I’m gonna need a new brush,” Erik says when he catches his breath. He doesn’t think he could ever look at this one again and not blush.

Master barks a laugh. “Oh no, you don’t. Keep this one, I think you could use the reminder, huh?”

Erik pouts but doesn’t argue. Master combs his fingers through Erik’s hair, smiling. “Come on now. Get dressed and ready, we’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“We are?” Erik perks up, excited. He was sure he ruined his chance of going out.

“Of course we are,” master says, as if it was obvious, and Erik quickly pads to the shower.

Master takes him to what is probably the most luxurious shopping street in the city. It’s fun, strolling down the street slowly, just ogling all the fancy stuff in the shop windows. Erik doesn’t really expect to go inside any of these; he imagines everything here is ridiculously expensive even though there are no price tags anywhere.

He is all the more surprised when master steers him towards one of the doors and pushes him inside a small jewellery shop. A classical music is playing softly in the background and Erik’s legs sink into a thick rug on the floor. There are no customers besides them and the lady behind the counter immediately gets up, greeting master with a sharp smile.

Master ignores her, nudging Erik towards the displays.

“Choose something, pet. Anything at all. I want to see more jewellery on you.”

Slowly, he moves from one section to another, the lady pulling out the velvet pillows to show off their goods. She’s eager enough, bringing more and more stuff. Rings, bracelets, necklaces… She only talks to master the entire time, as if Erik wasn’t there, or was a piece of furniture at best, but Erik doesn’t let it bother him too much.

There’s nothing that really catches Erik’s attention until they reach the hair jewellery section. The things there are beautiful – golden pins with gems of all colors, clips and combs, most of them clearly for women. There is one hairpin that Erik immediately falls in love with – it’s not as sparkly as the others, made of intricate lines and patterns, forming what almost looks like a knot. It closes off with a long pin that runs from one side to the other. It will work great to keeps his hair out of his face. Definitely better than Jerry’s rough rubber bands, that’s for sure.

“Can I have this one, master?” he asks, hesitantly. It’s probably not what master had in mind but he did say anything. And if he says no, Erik’s going to be heartbroken because he already got attached to that hairpin.

“Of course you can,” master says easily and Erik can’t help but beam at him.

“Great choice, it will look good on him,” the lady says to master. “Your boy has such pretty hair.”

Erik does his best to keep his face blank and not roll his eyes as she continues to sweet-talk master while she rings the pin and puts it in a box.

Once they’re out, Erik lets out a breath of relief, holding the little bag close to his chest.

“Thank you, master,” Erik says and master smiles at him fondly.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

They continue their stroll down the street afterward. Master stops in a few shops, buying a new tie, asking Erik which one to choose, or a couple new shirts. Soon enough, Erik’s getting kind of hungry, but when he looks at the cafés and restaurants around here, the tables full of fancy business people in suits, some of them with their slaves on a pillow by their feet, he sort of hopes they’ll just eat at home.

In the end, master leaves the street and they walk a few blocks until they reach the sea promenade, lined with cosy, if a bit shabby, restaurants. He takes a seat in one of the rattan chairs with view of the ocean, pointing Erik to the other one on the other side of the small table.

Master orders a coffee from the old friendly old lady, exchanging a few words with her, which makes Erik think this is not the first time he’s here, and gets orange juice and a bagel for Erik.

As he sips his juice – the real stuff, too, with pulps and all – Erik enjoys the salty breeze on his face. There are people milling around, beach goers, families with small kids, tourists, and no one seems to look at them twice or raise an eyebrow at Erik sitting in the chair instead of being on the floor.

“You know your jealousy towards Zach is completely unfounded, right?” master casually says out of the blue and Erik feels his cheeks turn red with shame.

“I—yes, master, I’m sorry,” he says softly even though no, he doesn’t know that. Not really.

“I’m not going to buy Zach, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Erik bites his lip, guilt stirring in his stomach. This is his fault. If he didn’t act like a jealous idiot, master might have considered it. And despite all his insecurity, he likes Zach and feels sorry for him. He wishes he could stay here and be safe and happy and not have to go back to that asshole or be sold to some even bigger asshole. It’s not fair.

“But—,” Erik tries but the warning look master gives him makes him shut up. “Yes, master.”

It’s fine. It’s only been like two weeks. There’s still time to persuade master to help Zach. Erik will figure something out.

Forcing himself to let it go for now, he smiles at master.

“Can we get an ice cream afterwards?” he asks and master’s face softens too, the tension leaving him.

“Alright,” he rolls his eyes fondly, muttering something about spoiling him too much, as he goes back to drinking his coffee.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A life Deserved](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28898805) by [ItStartedWithPotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItStartedWithPotter/pseuds/ItStartedWithPotter)




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